


Four Steps

by Mooneye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Apart from Prologue, Constant Vigilance, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Romance, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Slow Burn, Trauma, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooneye/pseuds/Mooneye
Summary: “You’re not the only dangerous one, thief!” Remus exclaimed, his voice wavering as he brandished the knife.“The only dangerous one in here is the animal with a knife,” Sirius responded.Sirius is a proud centaur and a skilled monster hunter.After shattering his leg whilst trying to kill Fenrir, a terrifyingly cruel werewolf, Sirius is made human by an old wizard to restore his mobility.Sirius is appalled with his new body, but is given the opportunity of becoming a centaur again if he completes one task: protect Remus, the wizard’s apprentice and an escaped werewolf from Fenrir’s clan, until Fenrir is dead.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	1. Prologue

Edgar, a boy with ruddy cheeks and knobbly knees, ran after his sister, her hair a red streak between towering oaks.

Edgar and Amelia were forbidden from going too far into the wilderness, with the warning of a spank if they ever broke that rule, and so kept near to home and the main roads. Even the busiest road leading to the local town was just a wide dirt track that occasionally saw carts and carriages from merchants, travellers, and visiting aristocracy.

Hogsmeade wasn’t a large town, but it was a decent port that was almost entirely surrounded by mountains. Apart from being strategically located from a military perspective, it was a popular destination for nobility to spend their long summers.

Edgar adored going into town, feeling like a man when his father sat him up on one of the tall stools at the local tavern. The barkeeper was always willing to play the game and treat him like an adult, pretending to serve a glass of whiskey for his long day. Amelia was less interested, preferring their more modest village, one of many that surrounded the town, and the secret-swollen forest.

Edgar grabbed his sister’s arm, having caught up with her, and pulled her back as she had frozen in the middle of the road. He looked up with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Don’t worry about him. Despite how he looks he is harmless,” a young man told them as he swept a hand through his hair so that it no longer fell into his face. Edgar tore his eyes from the towering figure, having only just noticed the man with dark hair and bright hazel eyes when he started speaking.

An irritated stomp brought his attention back to what his sister had yet to be distracted from. A centaur stared down at them. The black hair that fell to his shoulders complimented his solid and sleek lower body.

The centaur’s upper half, what could be mistaken as human, was pale and bore several faded scars. Despite the stern expression, his glacial grey eyes holding the children in place, he had handsome features with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones.

“Can you not see that this is a road?” the centaur eventually said. Edgar floundered to find words.

“They’re only children,” the young man replied lightly.

“That’s all well and good, James, but I can’t be looking down all the time to make sure I don’t step on some random human urchin,” the centaur responded.

“Now, now, be-hay-ve,” James said, a smirk creeping into his features.

“I am behaving. Children should be more aware of their surroundings. It’s for their own protection as well as my need to move around without stumbling over small humans. Wait, was that a horse pun?”

“Me, my good sir, neigh!” James answered.

“Firstly, and for the last time, I am not a horse. Secondly, I will hit you,” the centaur said.

“You win. I’ll rein it in,” James relented, raising his hands in submission. However, his inability to repress a guilty grin caused his comrade to narrow his gaze. Slowly, the centaur reached for his side and began to unsheathe a deadly looking blade. The boy pulled his sister back a pace, keeping an iron grip on her arm in case they needed to run.

“You said hit, not impale!” James argued as he too moved back a step.

“Yes, I will hit you. I will hit you with my sword. Is that a problem?” the centaur asked.

“I haven’t even won the heart of my fair lady yet! Is my true love doomed to never be fulfilled?!” James melodramatically cried with a hand on his heart. The boy was beginning to wonder if the young man was being brave or simply insane.

“That’s the case whether or not I stab you,” the centaur deadpanned.

“You wound me! I thought you were family, Sirius. You should support me because one day you may be promoted to the babysitter of our beautiful children. Also, that time you said stab, which is definitely different to hitting,” James told Sirius.

“In a world where you are successful, you would put even smaller, and potentially more annoying, children under my feet to trip over? We’re going in the opposite direction of progress here,” Sirius said.

“I’m sorry for almost tripping you up,” the young girl interjected, breaking up the peculiar argument.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just sensitive,” James kindly told the girl. Sirius just let out a long and exasperated sigh, this time stomping his rear hoof. Edgar watched with unbridled fascination as the gleaming sword was placed back in its sheath.

“We hunt monsters. That’s why we have these types of weapons,” James explained.

“Are you the famous hunters father told us about?” Edgar blurted out, excitement brimming to the point that he could hardly keep still. 

“What did your father tell you?” James asked.

“Father tells us stories about a man and a centaur that kill monsters. They’re known in every country, even ones across the sea, but they were born right here,” the boy recited. He loved his father’s stories, they made him feel safe and excited for a future of daring heroics.

“Unless there is another pair like us that sounds about right. I don’t know about every country, but we’ve been around. It’s good to be home, though. The last four years were quite eventful,” James said. Edgar was only aware that his mouth had dropped open in surprise when he felt Amelia’s fingers pushing his chin up to shut it.

“Anyway, we really should be going, and your parents will be worried if you're not home soon,” James said, giving a brief farewell nod. It was then, as the pair passed, that Edgar could see all the armour and weaponry strapped to them. It was not like the procession guards, with their gleaming ceremonial armour that had never seen the field but battered and worn from battle. It was used as real protection from creatures that lurked in the dark. A large bag was strapped to the centaur’s lower body, but he seemed almost unaware of any additional weight.

Edgar and Amelia stood at the side of the road until the pair had disappeared. Grinning at each other with excited eyes, they ran home as fast as they could to tell others of the hunters they had met on the old dirt road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this old and almost forgotten story and have decided to dust it off in the hope it can bring some enjoyment during these bleak times. 
> 
> Please consider leaving a kudos or comment as it'll truly brighten up my day. I never gave this story a chance to be read in the past, but I hope it can be enjoyed now.


	2. Chapter 1

Streams of light filtered through the dust laden windows, but even then the wooden cabin maintained a still and sombre quality. The room was large, but sparse. There were odd pieces of mismatched furniture pushed up against the sides of the room, keeping the central area clear and the unlit hearth easily accessible.

In the entire space, there were only two chairs. A rotund man, with watery eyes and a sickly complexion, sat on one whilst the other remained empty. He twisted the cup in his hands, watching as the ale gently lapped at the sides. He was a nervous man by nature, prone to fidgeting and touching his pale lustreless hair so that it was always kept in its appropriate place.

“I take it that James is out?” the man finally enquired.

“Yes, he’s trying to win the heart of one very uninterested young maiden,” Sirius told Peter, not even pausing in his search through one of the cluttered cupboards on the other side of the room. He had yet to meet this girl, but he could imagine James acting ridiculously whilst trying to win her affection. Apparently, James had known her for years, but had only begun to seriously pursue her just a month prior to their extended trip across the continents. Seeing that the lady was still available, as if a suitor or husband would have made a difference to the love-struck fool, he sought to resume his courtship.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard about that. Do you know who she is?” Peter asked. He had always been a curious man, wanting to know everything about everyone at every opportunity.

“No, I don’t believe I’ve met her. If anything serious happens, James will introduce me. Although, at this rate, I’ll be senile by that point,” Sirius said, earning a light chuckle.

“I ought to be heading back soon. I don’t want to be caught outside after dark,” Peter told Sirius.

“We’re close enough to the villages, or is little Peter still afraid of things that go bump in the night?” Sirius teased.

“I’ll have you know that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Even if we’re in a reportedly safe area, I’d rather not take my chances,” Peter answered curtly.

“If it’s any consolation, if there had been anything dangerous nearby, I probably would’ve already killed it,” Sirius told him before showing his appreciation of having found what he'd been searching for.

“Is this the one you wanted?” Sirius trotted over, making the floorboards shudder, and placed the small knife on the table in front of Peter.

“Yes, just the one I need. _You can’t use that knife to chop this root. This spoon can’t be used on that paste._ It’s doing my head in,” Peter told the centaur. Sirius merely laughed at the poor impersonation of Slughorn, a skilled apothecary and Peter’s mentor.

“This is what you get for trying to enter a conventional and reputable career,” Sirius said. Peter huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Sirius!” the pair heard an urgent shout from the forest. Sirius instantly picked up a sword from the weapon strewn table by the door, almost on reflex, and quickly made his way outside. Peter was not far behind him, taking inspiration and grabbing a dagger.

Sirius’ humble cabin was located on the mountainside, and apart from a wall of rock at its rear it was surrounded by an army of trees. The easiest method of reaching his small sanctuary was by a simple dirt path. James had reached the top of this incline but had stopped and was waiting for Sirius to approach him.

“What’s wrong, James?” Sirius asked. James was bent over, holding his knees as he desperately tried to draw in more air. From the perspiration on his brow, it was clear he had been running for some while.

“I was trying to get Lily’s attention . . .” James began.

“Oh, not this again,” Sirius sighed.

“Listen!” James impatiently snapped, regaining Sirius’ attention. “I was trying to talk to Lily when I overheard some guards on patrol. I struck up a conversation and managed to get them to tell me that Fenrir has been seen in the area. It’s like you said, he’s back!”

“Did you get anything else?” Sirius asked.

“Apparently, although this much is a rumour, he was seen several miles west of the old stone bridge not that long ago,” James said.

“I’m going,” was Sirius’ immediate response.

“My armour and weapons are back at home. We need to go there first,” James said.

Sirius turned and ran back into his wooden home. Peter had to jump aside for fear of being knocked down. Despite being such a large creature, Sirius was light on his feet and moved with finesse. He quickly donned his armour and begun to strap on all the weapons he thought would be useful without weighing him down too greatly. After four years of searching, Sirius’ patience was almost non-existent.

The grotesque and monstrous werewolf had returned, appearing as suddenly as he had disappeared. Sirius did not want to miss the opportunity of plunging his blade straight through his heart. In an ideal world, the beast would suffer before the end.

“Sirius, are you listening?” James called out as he stood at the threshold, clutching the door frame as though to keep him rooted.

“There’s no time, I have to get there now,” Sirius told James.

“No, Sirius. It’s bad enough if you think just the two of us can do this without a plan or any preparation. He probably has his entire pack with him and you expect to just charge in and succeed?! Don’t you even dare suggest going alone,” James warned.

“Step aside, James,” Sirius said, his tone suggesting more a thinly veiled threat. For the first time in years, James appeared intimidated by the centaur that stood in the centre of the dark room.

“Please, we’ll come up with something.” James pleaded.

“Yes, Sirius, remember all the stories you’ve told me. Everything needs a plan and preparation. Don’t let your anger rule you,” Peter added, peeking around James.

“Everything I’ve done until now was preparation. Now, move or be moved.” With that, Sirius strode forward. He moved briskly, using enough force to shove James to the side without seriously harming him. Peter had already moved out of his warpath.

As soon as Sirius was through the door, he broke into a run that was as fast as his legs could carry him, holding the hilt of his sword in anticipation.

Sirius could hear his name being called, but the wide arms of the trees hastily caught such disruptive noises and soon there was only the sound of pounding hooves.

* * *

The bodies of the trees grew closer, and soon even the sun had limited access to the ancient forest. Sirius was forced to slow down as roots reached up to grab at his legs. It seemed even the plants liked to play a role in the chase between cat and mouse. He was limited in space, and there was the growing concern that his ability to turn about was severely reduced. Sirius refused to turn back, though. He knew he was close and he had been waiting so long for this moment. Every second Fenrir lived was a personal insult.

Sirius didn’t even bother finding the old stone bridge, choosing to cross the river a few miles upstream. The water was frigid, but he barely noticed as he pushed on ahead.

Years of tracking monsters and beasts had served him well. He knew he was close. Slowing his pace even more, he began to take more deliberation before making a step.

Sirius slowly removed the bow from his back and pulled out an arrow, using a wide trunk to conceal his frame. Even from a distance, the dishevelled men with lupine features were almost certainly monsters. As Sirius was standing downwind, he could just about catch the scent of blood. Their eyes glimmered in the gloom as they gestured with hands that resembled closer to claws.

Steadying his breath, Sirius drew and released the arrow so that it could sail smoothly into the skull of the creature on the right. The other, surprised, turned and hurtled through the trees towards Sirius. He snarled in rage, but Sirius had anticipated this and had already drawn his sword. In one fell swoop, the second werewolf lay dead at his feet. 

From their corpses, it was clear that these were not Fenrir’s best and brightest. They went down far too easily. They had probably been sent to patrol the area, an expendable force.

Sirius continued to traverse the undergrowth and navigate around trees that were becoming ever weirder and more wonderful. Roots became archways and shadows began to take on a life of their own.

The sudden snapping of a nearby twig allowed Sirius to turn just in time as something large crashed into him. Sirius was knocked over, his legs losing connection with the leaf-littered floor, and his mind spun trying to make sense of what was happening. He was surprised that he had not sensed the disruption, the overpowering taint that made the beast almost impenetrable to magic. It was smothering Sirius now, pressing on his lungs as he struggled to breathe.

What Sirius couldn’t understand was how there could possibly be a mound of muscle, fur and teeth snapping at him. Sirius struck at the werewolf, using a spare dagger as his sword had been flung into the nearby undergrowth, trying to pierce through its thick skin and distract the beast long enough so that he could stand. Although the trees had taken the place of the sky, Sirius knew it wasn’t nightfall yet and he was even more certain that the moon was only destined to be a waning gibbous. The other werewolves had been human in appearance.

The flash of grizzled hair and the luminous yellow eyes unmistakably belonged to Fenrir. The monster had grown, gorged on children and innocents. Sirius tried to hold the gnashing jaws back, kicking with one leg to try and dislodge the razor-sharp claws that were tearing into his body.

As a centaur, Sirius was immune to the curse of a werewolf, but the creature could still kill him. Sirius’ heart hammered in his chest, like a bird trying to flee from its cage, as he continued to try and find some way to escape. He knew each blow was one more shovel of dirt and soon he would be in his grave. Pain had abandoned him, and he could hardly tell whose blood ran thicker as the pair were drenched with it and sweat.

Fenrir clamped down on his shoulder, causing Sirius to cry out and strike at him more furiously. His teeth sunk deeper as Sirius was shaken like a ragdoll. Sirius felt a pressure building on the inside of his skull, the sounds of their battle becoming distorted, and he knew she was going to fall unconscious soon. Sirius had anticipated ending in such a way, finally defeated by some dark creature that refused to die by his hand, but not by this demonic animal.

A nearby bang and loud crackle caught the beast’s attention. Leaving Sirius for dead, the werewolf stalked through the forest towards the sound. Apart from a slight limp, it was as though Fenrir had been unaffected by their encounter. Sirius was angry to have his final fight so casually ignored, his opponent walking off without even bothering to finish the deed.

Sirius tried to move, but realised he was unable to. The forest was becoming darker and there was too much blood to identify what damage had been done. Despite all of this, Sirius could barely muster any concern over his situation. As pain was steadily beginning to return, his eye lids grew heavier. The fatigue settled in his bones and drained his will. Leaning against a large root, Sirius allowed his eyes to close, wanting to drift off into a peaceful sleep. He did not want to acknowledge his dire situation, alone in a forest that would keep what happened there a secret like the many others it held.

Just before losing consciousness, he heard approaching footsteps. Perhaps Fenrir had come to finish what he started, but the hand that reached out to touch him was soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please leave a comment or kudos, it’d brighten up my day.


	3. Chapter 2

Death was uncomfortable. Sirius’ body made its displeasure known by creeping into his dreams and transforming his slumber into a waking nightmare. The creatures that tore at him in the dark ripped Sirius from the inky waters of his subconscious and he found himself coated in a warm light.

As his eyes adjusted, realising that the pain in his abused body had not been a figment of his imagination, Sirius found himself in a circular room. Perched high up in the rafters was a large bird with colourful plumage and a fiery red tail that swayed in the breeze from the large open windows. The room was filled with oddities, strange mechanical instruments that moved rhythmically and enough leather-bound books to make any learned individual jealous.

Sirius tried to move, but instantly realised something was terribly wrong. He blinked to clear the remaining haze from his eyes. The pale sheets that were draped over his body ended too suddenly. In horror, he tore off the covers and saw that his entire lower half was not missing but transformed. Where there was once a proud centaur, was now a battered, but perfectly proportional, human male. Sirius felt nauseous, something inside of him sunk into a chasm he had not known was there. The fact that he could move the pale and long human limbs only enhanced his disgust and fear.

“Ah, I see you are finally awake,” said a soothing voice. “I will make us a cup of tea.”

Sirius’ head quickly turned to watch the peculiar human walk slowly into the room, slightly hunched over from old age. He smiled at Sirius, his blue eyes shining with intrigue. His face was surrounded by a cascade of white hair that joined with a beard that fell to his waist, his elaborately patterned dark blue robes no less impressive.

Questions flooded Sirius’ mind.

“Why am I here?” Sirius asked, needing to start from somewhere.

“You were found injured in the forest. I took you to my home so that I could see to your wounds,” was the simple answer. The old man made a casual sweep of his hand and steam began to rise from the spout of a floral teapot. Another gesture from a finger caused two matching cups to rise out of their position on a shelf and land softly on a nearby mahogany table.

“What did you do to me?” Sirius asked, his tone acidic as he realised that the extravagant figure was capable of causing his disfigurement.

“I think I ought to introduce myself, Sirius. Yes, I know who you are and what you do. My name is Dumbledore and I am a hermit that lives in these woods,” Dumbledore began. Sirius waited for his original question to be answered, masking his surprise that the legendary Dumbledore was not just a myth. Few had not heard of the extraordinary and reclusive wizard. “The bones in your legs were shattered in the attack, and because the damage was caused by a werewolf I could not heal it with magic. I know the consequences of a broken leg for a centaur. The only way to restore your mobility and allow you to carry on your profession was to remove two legs and give you a human form. I know this must be unfortunate news for you.”

“ _This must be unfortunate news_? You’ve maimed me!” Sirius yelled in outrage.

“Your predicament was caused by your own folly. Even if you had managed to survive alone, you would have been left unable to walk. I have given you a second chance,” Dumbledore explained.

“So, you thought that making me human was the better option? You thought I’d appreciate being in this form over the alternatives?” Sirius asked, becoming increasingly overwhelmed.

“It is my understanding that you chose to slay monsters in order to set your own course and defy prejudices,” the wizard said.

“Just because I associate with humans does not mean I want to be human. I am a centaur,” Sirius replied, his gaze narrowing.

“What is wrong with being human?” Dumbledore asked.

“You’re greedy, self-centred, and destructive. You’re tiny, you procreate like rabbits, and you have little spindly legs,” Sirius began.

“Is that your opinion of all humans?” Dumbledore asked.

Sirius took some time to answer before begrudgingly admitting, “No.”

“You wanted people to take you seriously as a centaur and monster hunter, a profession that is almost unheard of amongst your kind, and yet you scorn those who would want the same courtesy. I understand that all of this is a lot to take in, but things are not always as bad as they appear,” Dumbledore said. Sirius frowned, staring at his new limbs, but said nothing.

“I have left some clothes for you in the cabinet of that bedside table. Now, how do you like your tea?” Dumbledore pulled the conversation away to a lighter topic, giving Sirius some time to adjust to his new situation.

“Two sugars, please,” the centaur finally said before looking in the cupboard for something to wear. He felt oddly vulnerable and wanted to occupy his hands.

Sirius, from travelling with James for several years, recognised that he was wearing typical human undergarments. He slipped on a simple white shirt, not wanting to linger on the scars that were Fenrir’s artwork. Admittedly, most of them were on their way to recovery and the worst had been neatly sewn up, but they were a bold statement of his failings. He then looked at the earthy brown trousers more curiously.

Able to move his new legs, he swung them over the side of the bed and mimicked what he had seen James do in the past. He took the trousers, trying to determine which side was the front, and then began to wrestle his legs into them. It was more complicated than it seemed, his feet constantly becoming trapped in the material. Once they were halfway up his leg, seeing as he could only delay the task for so long, he attempted to stand.

“Do you require some assistance?” Dumbledore asked, prompted by the sound of a dull thud as his back was to Sirius.

“No. How do you even balance on these things?” Sirius muttered the last part as he pushed himself up from where he had fallen on the floor and tried to stand again. Sirius swayed to the side and so he used the bedside table as a support. With the other hand he roughly pulled the trousers up the rest of his thigh and buttoned them once the material was around his waist. He found them extremely uncomfortable, scratching and confining his legs, which did not help to improve his mood. His body ached and he accomplished two small steps, holding anything he could find to keep balance, before sitting back down.

Dumbledore seemed to sense that Sirius needed to be left alone for his first steps, and only turned around once Sirius was seated again on the bed. He brought both cups over along with some biscuits and placed them all on Sirius’ bedside table.

“You will be up and moving around in no time,” Dumbledore told Sirius optimistically. Sirius did not look convinced and deliberately avoided eye contact. 

Dumbledore paused for a moment before going to his desk. He gently placed some of the parchments that covered the surface to the side and picked up two simple walking sticks that had been resting there. He returned to Sirius and held out the canes for him. Sirius frowned at the outstretched hand but seeing that Dumbledore was waiting patiently he took the objects and lay them on his lap.

“These might be of use to you,” was all Dumbledore said. Sirius nodded once, his hands running across the sturdy canes.

* * *

Sleep did not come easy to Sirius that night as Fear kept him company with endless questions. Shame taunted and mocked him till his hands balled into fists and he screamed into the pillow for some reprieve. Even if Dumbledore heard the centaur’s cries, he did not come and left him to mourn in peace.

Dawn could not have been more welcome. As soon as the sky was pale enough for colours to blossom back into the world, Sirius was ready to begin anew. Having pulled off his trousers and shirt to sleep more comfortably, he went through the motions of dressing himself again. Whilst easier, he still found the task frustrating as his feet refused to slip smoothly through the trouser legs.

Then, as he was alone, Sirius grabbed the two canes and attempted to walk. He began by using the crutches like his missing legs, resembling the grace of a new-born foal. He fell several times, but he refused to admit defeat. By the time there was a gentle knock on the door Sirius was able to shuffle slowly around the room.

“It’s your house,” Sirius answered. Dumbledore slowly opened the door, smiling when he saw the centaur standing with the crutches by the window.

“Good morning, Sirius. It may be my house, but you are my guest,” Dumbledore greeted in return. “I am glad to see that you are up and about.”

“How long was I unconscious for? The moon was not as full last night as when I last saw it before the attack,” Sirius said.

“You were asleep for four days,” Dumbledore said. Sirius covered his surprise by keeping his gaze focused on the view outside the window. Dumbledore maintained a small garden that was surrounded by a dilapidated picket fence. Sirius could identify several types of herb and medicinal flower, but there were many other wonderful plants of vibrant colours that he had never seen before. Dumbledore’s residence was situated on the edge of the forest, the line of trees visible from where Sirius stood, and was tucked away from human habitation. The only thread that tied them to civilisation was a road which led beyond the horizon. Sirius was curious to explore the area, but he wanted to regain his balance before attempting such a feat.

“As you will be staying here for the foreseeable future, I expect you to earn your keep,” Dumbledore told Sirius. It was not said cruelly, and Sirius could not understand the light that twinkled behind the old man’s eyes as though he were holding a great secret that he was hoping would be discovered.

“What would you have me do?” Sirius asked bluntly.

“After breakfast, you can help me by organising and clearing away some of these books,” was the simple response.

* * *

Sirius quickly noticed how the tasks he was given involved moving around the room, with each order slightly more challenging than the last. He was also under the impression that Dumbledore took some amusement in watching his small successes and failures. He was sure that the man had chuckled under his breath when Sirius found pleasure in being able to turn quickly and without having to mind what was behind him. There may be several advantages to being human.

It took another three days before Sirius was able to walk without the use of a walking stick. Admittedly, Sirius was aided by various medicines that improved his health and numbed his pains, but it was sheer willpower that caused him to improve so rapidly. He would periodically shift between using one stick to carry more objects and using both canes as an emergency support when trying to walk independently.

“Sirius, I have something I would like you to see,” Dumbledore said as Sirius entered the house with a small sack of garlic, green onions and rhubarb from the garden. Sirius had found that the exterior of the house held the same rustic charms as its interior, with a thatched roof and white-wash walls.

“Let me just put these in the kitchen,” Sirius said. The centaur still moved slowly, wincing on occasion as an injury protested, but Dumbledore was patient and waited.

“Follow me,” Dumbledore said when Sirius joined him.

Dumbledore walked to and opened the one door he had asked Sirius not to enter without his permission. Being a hermit who was used to his privacy, Sirius accepted this and did not pry. Centaurs were not needlessly curious. He knew the old man had some secrets, as most do, but they did not warrant suspicion. Whilst Sirius did not appreciate his human form, he did acknowledge that the reason he was alive was because of Dumbledore and his efforts.

Sirius frowned in confusion when he looked beyond the threshold to see a long corridor with multiple doors along the right wall. This space, like the rest of the house, was flooded with light by large windows that were situated on the left. Sirius could not understand how he had not seen this section of the house from the outside.

Dumbledore walked to the end of the corridor, Sirius not too far behind him.

The last door opened into a large bedroom. Magnolia curtains billowed in the cool wind, matching the pale walls. The wooden floorboards creaked as they stepped inside. The only objects in the space were an old chair, a simple wardrobe and, in the centre of the room, a large and beautifully crafted bed.

Dumbledore stood by the foot of the bed and beckoned Sirius over. Sirius was hesitant at first but obeyed and stood beside his temporary keeper.

A young man lay buried in crisp white sheets, wrapped generously in bandages. The only part of him exposed was his face, and even that was marred by a long scratch that extended from his brow to his jaw in one smooth line. A small frown revealed that the troubled stranger could not escape even in his dreams. Long eyelashes fluttered briefly, but he did not wake.

Silken hair framed his slim face, a warm brown that glimmered gold in the sunlight. He was almost as pale as Sirius, but his complexion was sicklier and there were dark smudges under his eyes from exhaustion.

“This is Remus, my apprentice,” Dumbledore introduced the unconscious man. “I have given him some strong medicine, but I expect he will be awake by tomorrow afternoon.”

“What happened to him?” Sirius asked, knowing there must have been a reason for Dumbledore to show him this.

“He was attacked by the same individual who almost killed you,” Dumbledore said, unsurprised to find Sirius’ gaze harden. “When Remus was a young boy he was bitten by Fenrir. After living with Fenrir’s pack for several years he managed to escape and found me. He has been living here ever since under my protection.”

Dumbledore’s words no longer reached Sirius and all he could see was one of Fenrir’s monstrous creations lying in a human bed. Sirius unsheathed the dagger he kept on his belt, unwilling to spend any extended length of time unarmed, and approached the head of the bed.

“Then, I will put this wretch out of its misery,” Sirius stated coldly.

Dumbledore barely had to move his hand for the blade to be ripped from Sirius’ grasp and clatter on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Sirius held his wrist, sore from suddenly being wrenched to the side.

“Remus is not at fault for the circumstances that befell him. He is kind-hearted, intelligent, and loyal. I have been teaching him how to live in the human world, because whilst Remus escaped out of his own free will, most of his life was spent under Fenrir’s influence. He has come a long way, but Fenrir has returned and does not let go of what he considers his own. I helped you not only to give you a second chance, but to give Remus another chance,” Dumbledore explained.

“How do I come into this? I will not help a werewolf, especially anything tainted by Fenrir,” Sirius responded.

“Remus was discovered by some of Fenrir’s followers during the last full moon. I do not know what would have happened if he had not taken the wolfsbane potion that evening. With a human mind he could escape, but even that has its limitations, and I can no longer offer him the protection he needs.”

“You expect me to play dog-minder?” Sirius asked incredulously, hardly repressing a sneer.

“I want you to protect him. If your reputation precedes you, then I believe you are quite capable. You have been taught a severe lesson because you underestimated Fenrir, but I am confident that this event will make you stronger and wiser. You seek revenge, to put an end to this dark creature, and with that Remus would be free to live his life as he chooses,” Dumbledore continued.

“Yes, I somewhat appreciate that you saved my life, but it was your choice to help me. I have no obligation to guard this creature and it would be better off if I just ended its existence now,” Sirius told Dumbledore bluntly.

“Remus could provide valuable insight into Fenrir’s methods,” Dumbledore said.

“Tempting, but you forget that I am still a centaur. I do not like to be used and I do not help monsters,” Sirius answered.

Sirius stood firm against Dumbledore’s gaze. Dumbledore’s expression had barely shifted during the course of their conversation, but the light in his eyes had become colder.

“Sometimes we cannot see what we really need,” the old man commented quietly before changing tact. “I can make you a suitable proposition, Sirius. Magic is peculiar in that, in this state, there is the possibility for your legs to fully recover. I have made you human, but there is still some residual damage. However, human bones can mend, especially as they do not tend to shatter and bend like that of the lower body of a centaur. The damage from Fenrir may eventually disappear. At that time, there is a chance that, if I were to return you to your original form, your mobility would be restored as a perfectly formed human becomes a perfectly formed centaur. It may take several months, but it is possible.”

“You could turn me back? You mean I could be as I was before the attack?” Sirius asked with growing excitement.

“I cannot guarantee success as it is not something that I have seen done before, but in theory I believe it is possible. My condition for this opportunity is simple,” Dumbledore said.

“You want me to protect that creature until Fenrir is dead,” Sirius stated.

“To put it bluntly, yes. Fenrir has lost his humanity and thrives on the suffering of others. Whilst I wish there was a peaceful alternative, in the midst of what is to come, it is not only the pair of you who will benefit from Fenrir’s demise,” Dumbledore admitted, ignoring Sirius’ derogatory remarks.

“What is to come? What do you mean?” Sirius asked, wondering what the old hermit was withholding from him.

“You will know in due time, but for now this is of the utmost importance. Come now, we should allow Remus to rest,” Dumbledore finished with, gesturing for Sirius to leave first. Sirius simply nodded before turning on his heel and departing as briskly as his new legs would allow.

Sirius chose to gather his thoughts for the remainder of the afternoon, only returning to the property once the sun had already set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a kudos or a comment as I'd really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 3

Sirius was sat on a stone windowsill, peeling a green apple with a recently sharpened knife. He threw the peel out into the garden, aiming for a patch of soil beneath some leaves so that it could become fertiliser for Dumbledore’s beloved garden. When he was finished, eating the last piece off the tip of the blade, the core joined the peel.

Ever since his meeting with the unconscious werewolf, Sirius avoided Dumbledore. He ensured that he was always armed and that his knife was visible as it sat neatly in its sheath on his hip. His dagger was the only weapon salvaged from the attack, the sole tangible link to his past. Dumbledore’s abode was so isolated and picturesque that it was easy to become lulled into a false sense of security. 

“Ah, there you are,” Dumbledore said as he walked into the main living space that also functioned as Sirius’ sleeping quarters.

Sirius did not move, but his eyes flicked upwards to watch the old man’s approach.

“I have something I would like you to do,” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Sirius’ increasingly wary gaze.

“Go outside and turn right. Follow the road until you reach a small town named Little Whinging. Once you are there, find a man called Shacklebolt. He works in the smith with his son. Tell him that I sent you and give him this letter along with these coins,” Dumbledore told him.

Sirius contemplated Dumbledore’s words before straightening up and taking the offered items. He proceeded to tuck them away in a trouser pocket.

“Just turn right and follow the road?” Sirius asked for clarification.

“Yes, you should not get lost,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

Sirius nodded. He departed without another word, choosing to leave his walking sticks. It was still early morning, so he would not have to race against the sun.

* * *

It was approaching midday by the time Sirius found the bustling town of Little Whinging. Children played in the cobblestone streets whilst shopkeepers beckoned customers to view their wares. It was smaller than Hogsmeade and lacked the presence of the aristocracy. There were no rich silks swaying from market stalls or the sweet scent of perfumes. It was a practical place filled with humble folk.

Sirius believed that his new form would provide some anonymity and allow him to blend into the crowd. However, Sirius found that curious eyes followed him. Women tittered and men whispered as he passed. He could feel their stares on his back and his legs were beginning to ache, but he was determined to ignore both for as long as possible.

“Can I help you?” asked a young woman, standing beside Sirius as he contemplated whether to turn left or right down another road. The woman fiddled with the ends of her copper hair, twirling the strands around a finger as she looked at Sirius with bright autumnal eyes. 

“I’m looking for the local smith,” Sirius said, not wanting to spend any more time searching the town and making it obvious that he was lost.

“Oh, that’s right around the corner from here. You just need to keep to the main road and you’ll see a sign,” she told Sirius. “I could take you there if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble yourself. I will manage,” Sirius said, already beginning to follow her instructions.

“I work at the bakery,” the woman said as she sprung forward to keep pace with Sirius. “My name is Molly. I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

Sirius contemplated whether to use his real name in public, especially as it was uncommon. Whilst he believed he could dissuade anyone from realising his identity, despite his upper body remaining unchanged, using his real name would be tempting fate. Shame would probably kill Sirius sooner than any act of revenge if certain individuals discovered what had happened to the centaur.

“Padfoot,” Sirius responded.

“That’s an unusual name,” the girl commented.

“It’s a nickname,” Sirius said quickly.

“How did you get it?” Molly asked.

“It runs in the family,” Sirius answered, withholding a smirk as Molly frowned at him in confusion.

“Thank you for assisting me,” Sirius said as they stopped outside of the smith shop.

“Oh, it was my pleasure. If you ever need a guide, just call for me. My father’s shop is just down this road on the left. I don’t mean to brag, but we really do sell the best bread,” Molly told him.

“If I find myself in town again, I’ll come and visit,” Sirius answered diplomatically.

“Excellent. I hope to see you soon.” Molly smiled before turning and walking back down towards where she said her father’s bakery was located.

Sirius sighed before walking inside. The entire space was constructed from thick stone and heavy timber. Despite the ochre glow of a fire in the hearth at the other end of the room, light did not thrive here and was quickly extinguished as it reached out beyond its limits.

“Can I help you?”

Sirius’ head shot in the direction of the booming voice.

“I am looking for someone by the name of Shacklebolt,” Sirius told the tall figure.

The man cleaned his hands with a spare cloth he pulled from his belt, smiling broadly. A thin sheen of sweat covered his broad form, thick muscles moving beneath dark skin. Darker eyes regarded Sirius with a heat that was comparable with the nearby hearth.

“You’ve come to the right place. You’re Sirius, am I correct?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Yes, I was told by Dumbledore to give you this,” Sirius said as he pulled out the items from his pocket.

Shacklebolt opened the small leather bag and tipped the coins out into his hand. He shuffled the money in his palm, counting quietly under his breath, and after placing them back in the bag he smiled again. He skimmed the letter, but he seemed to expect the contents and was unsurprised.

“My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. Dumbledore sent me an order several days ago to supply you with armour and a new sword. He must really like you because he spared no expense,” Kingsley then laughed.

“You make armour _and_ weapons?” Sirius asked. Dumbledore was a surprising figure and Sirius found it difficult to keep pace with him. He supposed that by helping him, Dumbledore was then helping Remus. Regardless, Sirius kept his opinions to himself.

“Of course we do!” proclaimed another voice. An older and slightly more weathered version of Kingsley entered the room. “Like most boys these days, my son was no different and wanted to work with anything sharp and pointy. Sold our shop in the Capital to get this cave,” he said.

“We sold our old shop because the doctor said it would do you some good to get out of the city. We have fresh air and vegetables here. Even your cough has gone, so don’t complain,” Kingsley argued.

“You just wanted more space so that you could make your swords and your maces. You couldn’t just go into the family business,” the father retorted.

“What my father is trying to say is that I make weapons and he makes armour,” Kingsley finished, turning his attention to Sirius. “I have something I think you’ll like.”

Kingsley manoeuvred around the room. His hands hovered over a large work bench before picking up a dark object. He returned swiftly and held out the item for Sirius to inspect.

Sirius carefully withdrew the sword from its sheath, partially as he was unsure of what to expect as well as a sign of respect for the craftsman. It was a simple sword, incredibly practical, but a beautiful piece of weaponry. He enjoyed the grip of the handle, feeling the blade as though it were an extra limb. He marvelled at its lightness and balance, gently swinging the sword in loose arcs.

“Toughest and lightest metal I could get my hands on. I’d bet you my shop that could cleave a troll’s skull and not break,” Kingsley proudly stated.

“This is a very fine sword,” Sirius approvingly noted, earning another wide grin from Kingsley.

“You just wait till you see what I have for you,” the father said as he walked back into the room with his own bundle. Sirius, so enthralled with his new sword, had not noticed the old man’s movements. Admittedly, Sirius owned a wide variety of blades and some of his weapons from abroad were stunning, but he knew this sword would be a frequent companion in battle. He could find no faults.

Sirius saw the armour and felt a twinge of apprehension. Sirius dreaded the feel of hardened leather on his human legs, bringing increasing awareness to his new form and reminding him that he could no longer be as he once was.

“Come on, try it on!” the old man demanded. “You can change over there.”

“I am unbothered. Turn away if you feel uncomfortable,” Sirius said. 

Sirius peeled off his shirt and hesitantly removed his trousers. He was wearing undergarments, meaning that nothing indecent by human standards was on display, and so he could not see the point of going and changing out of sight. James never bothered. The pair did not comment on the lattice work of scars, but Sirius did notice an exchange of glances between them before they politely averted their gaze. 

“Put these on first. They may look like regular leather trousers, but they’re soft, flexible and as tough as nails,” the father said as he passed Sirius the garment.

Sirius sat down whilst trying to push his foot through the leg, not yet trusting his balance. He loathed how the material hugged his legs, but he also acknowledged that such weak limbs would benefit from being fully protected.

“Now, here comes the fun part. Slip this on and then we can start strapping on the rest and making any amendments. Since Dumbledore asked for a full set, I had the boots ordered elsewhere. Everything else is my handy work, though,” the father said, wanting to take credit where credit was due. Sirius simply nodded and assisted the elder where he could.

Sirius carefully noted where each piece fitted and how it was fastened. He listened to Kingsley’s father as he explained the exceptional quality of his armour along with the design process. He described how he sought to create a piece that was flexible and perfect for stealth, but also tough and able to withstand crippling blows. The material was dark, as though the father had requested the exact hue of coal.

“For the grand finale,” the father declared as he reached for the final two pieces.

“Wouldn’t a helmet be a better choice?” Sirius questioned, perplexed.

“No! These are a masterpiece. They will give you the perfect edge. This hood, feel it, go on! Try and stab it. Like the armour, it’s flexible, tough and completely fireproof. Your senses won’t be dimmed by the confines of a metal cage and if you knock against anything there will be no noise. Helmets reflect light, and one glint is all it takes for some beasts. No, I’ve spent many hours designing this,” the father explained. Sirius felt the material, and indeed it was as he said. Kingsley even demonstrated with his new sword that the hood would not tear under an assault. Sirius was still slightly dubious over its practicality, knowing that if Fenrir managed to clamp his jaws anywhere near his head it would all be over. Then again, his head would be crushed whether it was in a sack or a metal can. In the past, Sirius simply wore what was available and did not ponder too greatly on stealth because his sheer size and brute strength could usually make up for any shortcomings. He was no longer a battering ram of muscle and weaponry. Now, he would have to refine his skills and consider human tactics.

Sirius allowed for the hood to be fixed onto the armour, surprised and pleased that it did not obscure his peripheral view as much as he expected.

“Now, this is very special,” the father said as he pushed a colombina mask into Sirius’ hands. Sirius considered it a stunning piece of craftsmanship, a half mask for the upper portion of his face that extended to cover the bridge of his nose. The material was a rich onyx that reminded him of his centaur physique, but across the surface was a myriad of carefully engraved designs. “Look at the rim of the eye holes,” the father told Sirius.

Sirius focused on the edges of the mask, noticing for the first time how tiny fragments within the material glistened like the scales of a fish.

“What is that?” Sirius asked.

“My very own invention,” the father proudly stated. “You’re familiar with the flow of magic, yes? The essence of nature as some might call it. Well, embedded into that mask is a very fine metal that is incredibly receptive to the shifts in magical flow. With a little help from me, I have discovered a way to manipulate those properties so that it can have a practical application. Put it on and tell me what you see.”

Sirius hesitantly brought the mask to his face but paused at the last moment.

“Does this have any side effects?” Sirius asked.

“No, of course not, the mask does all the work,” the father reassured.

Kingsley’s father assisted with positioning and fixing the mask for the first time and stepped away, his hands outstretched, and waited for Sirius’ reaction.

Sirius stood for an immeasurable amount of time, the father and son frozen as they awaited a reaction. When nothing caught his attention, he slowly turned his head to try and determine any changes in his surroundings. All remained as it had been until a wisp of light wavered into view briefly before vanishing. He waited, and the same ripple occurred again, but this time over Kingsley’s form.

Sirius took a hesitant step forward, scanning the room for the same mysterious anomaly. In the corner, behind a large freestanding cupboard, small ripples of light flittered into and out of existence. They moved with the finesse of smoke, there one moment and gone the next. 

“I see ripples of light,” Sirius said.

“Success!” the old man cried. “It works. What you’re seeing is the next stage of human evolution.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” his son quietly muttered.

“Respect your elders! That light is the disturbance to magical flow. Whether a creature is natural or unnatural, blocking magic or utilising magic, it shifts the order and that mask can see it. Through trial and error, I have finally perfected it. That’s why you don’t see every insect or find every creature bigger than a dormouse lighting up like a bonfire.”

“It is impressive,” Sirius said diplomatically. “Speaking of mice, you seem to have a small family inhabiting that cupboard.”

“I knew it! I told you I wasn’t hiding your bloody imported pasta in the flour,” Kingsley remarked.

“Dumbledore discussed with us how you were attacked. With that mask, you’ll have eyes that will rival any dark creature. If they’re within reach, you’ll see them,” the father said, ignoring his son.

“I have to admit, I am surprised that you are willing to part with such a piece when you have dedicated so much time to creating it,” Sirius said.

“I’d like to say it comes with the job, but not on this occasion. Dumbledore also mentioned what our armour and weapons for you will eventually encounter,” the old man’s tone had taken a more sombre quality. Kingsley’s expression also darkened, folding his arms as he stared resolutely at the floor.  
“That living devil took my wife. We spent a week finding and picking up her pieces. No one wants that monster dead more than us. We’re not just doing this for Dumbledore or for you, but for us.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Sirius said.

“No, don’t be sorry, just be successful,” Kingsley’s father stated, placing a hand on Sirius’ upper arm in a gesture of support.

“I will be,” Sirius answered.

“I’m surprised you had the restraint,” Sirius commented as he turned to Kingsley. The young man was gripping his arms, leaving dents in his skin as he physically shook from repressed rage. 

“That I did not chase after him?” Kingsley asked, finding some composure as he was brought out of his thoughts. Sirius nodded. “I’m no hunter and I’m no fool. I know I’d be slaughtered, and I couldn’t do that to my father. However, if you need anything else, you have our support. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Sirius began, but Kingsley held up a hand to stop him.

“Yes, that needs to be shifted over slightly,” the father commented as he reached for a buckle on Sirius’ armour.

The conversation grew lighter, with several jokes passed, as Sirius’ armour was tested the final time for any possible defects. The old man talked through each process, ensuring that Sirius knew every detail of his work as his fingers worked quickly on the sturdy material. Sirius wondered briefly how the old man was able to gather such precise measurements for his frame. He concluded that Dumbledore must have delivered them, but how he had known was another matter. Sirius was unsure whether he wanted to know and perhaps it was better not to ask.

“Keep it on. You need to break it in and you might find that the added protection comes in useful,” the old man said as Sirius began to pull at a strap. Sirius agreed, deciding then to attach his sheathed sword to complete the look. His old clothes were placed in a hessian sack, and with a rope he made a simple bag to sling over his shoulder so that he could leave his hands free.

“Good luck, and come back soon,” the old man said as they stood by the front door, light from the mid-afternoon sun flooding in. Sirius nodded and was about to leave when he felt the old man pull him back slightly. “I’m serious. You better come back because I don’t make such fine armour for failures.” Sirius blinked, but smirked when the father and son pair grinned in unison.

Sirius found that he still captured the attention of passing humans. Then again, his armour made it apparent that he was related to some combat-based profession. He doubted whether many hunters or soldiers passed through the area. Therefore, whilst not completely bizarre, Sirius was a reasonable spectacle. Either way, he was discovering that whatever actions he chose people would stare.

* * *

Sirius was relieved when he could finally grip the cold front door handle of Dumbledore’s abode. If the pain in his legs could be translated into a single noise it would be a long and piercing shriek. The discomfort began after standing for far longer than he was accustomed to, but the pain intensified during his return journey. His stubbornness to leave both canes was met with swift punishment.

He gripped the windowsill with one hand as he slung his bag onto a small oak table. His body needed some reprieve from the weight of the armour and the strangeness of the thick material clutching his lower half.

His head immediately darted up at the sound of wood crashing to the floor, swiftly followed by fragile glass shattering in small explosions.

Light danced around the startled figure as Sirius watched the disruption of magic through the mask. However, whilst Sirius registered the luminous honeyed eyes staring at him with fear, the young man did not seem as fragile as in his bandaged comatose state. He recognised the panicked figure as Dumbledore’s apprentice. He watched as Remus reached into his apron, the supplies he was carrying lay broken at his feet, and pulled out a small, serrated knife. He held it pointed towards Sirius, standing still and yet visibly shaking.

“You’re not the only dangerous one, thief!” Remus exclaimed, his voice wavering as he brandished the knife. Sirius blinked slowly, unimpressed by the werewolf, knowing that Remus would be unable to see his expression.

“The only dangerous one in here is the animal with a knife,” Sirius responded. Shock and confusion flashed across Remus’ face.

“I was wondering when you would return,” Dumbledore said as he walked into the room as if on cue. “There’s nothing to fear, Remus, Sirius is a friend. He was the centaur I aided after your return from the Shrieking Shack.” Sirius snorted quietly, but Dumbledore did not comment.

“Shrieking Shack?” Sirius asked with a raised brow. He couldn’t fault them on a lack of creativity.

“Remus spends the full moons at the Shrieking Shack because it’s safer than roaming the woods alone. That old cottage is avoided because there are rumours it is haunted, and even hunters avoid disgruntled spirits if they keep to their own space. Usually, Remus only goes on the day before the full moon, but with Fenrir in the area we believed that if we avoided travelling so close to the time of transformation we would miss his heightened patrols. We were mistaken,” Dumbledore explained.

“Wait, wait, you mean the same Sirius from all the stories?” Remus asked. Whilst he did not move, Remus’ eyes repeatedly flickered between Sirius’ masked face and his legs.

“If you make one comment, I’ll gut you right here,” Sirius warned as he placed a hand on top of his new sword.

Remus’ eyes glanced back down to see his very human appendages and Sirius seethed. He did not draw his sword, but strode briskly, ignoring his complaining bones, into the adjacent kitchen and slammed the door behind him. Whilst he could have turned around and walked back outside, Sirius was stubborn and refused to be defeated by a werewolf. He had also quickly considered whether sitting on a patch of grass with his newly made armour and even stiffer legs was wise. Embarrassment was not a running theme he wished to maintain, and he did not want to have to ask for assistance in standing back up again later. He just needed to rest on a kitchen stool and calm down before he really did kill the werewolf.

* * *

Sirius perched on an old stool; the frame wobbled on the uneven stones. He steadied his breathing, watching through a window as a dutiful bee made its rounds of the ever-blossoming flowers in Dumbledore’s garden, until voices crept into his consciousness and pulled his attention away.

“Are you sure that is the same Sirius? He doesn’t really fit my image of a centaur, unless I am mistaken somewhere,” Remus said doubtfully. Sirius had tuned in upon hearing his name but gritted his teeth at the insult. He felt compelled to listen to their conversation, quietly storing up ammunition for when it came time to shoot the beast down.

“I have already told you that Sirius was hunting Fenrir when he was attacked and the bones in his legs were shattered. He was almost dead when I found him, but, fortunately, I was able to treat his injuries. What I failed to mention was that I had to give Sirius a human body for him to have another chance. He has been living here, adjusting to his new body, whilst you have been recovering. I should have informed you of all the details, but it slipped my mind and that is my error. I truly believe he is capable of defeating Fenrir and will also be able to protect you,” Dumbledore explained to his apprentice.

“That explains the bed in the parlour, but why would he protect me? I’m a werewolf, a monster. I am not only the sort of thing he usually kills, but I am made by the very creature he probably _really_ wants to kill,” Remus argued. Sirius smirked, but it was not through amusement. At least the werewolf was self-aware.

“It is not about what you are, Remus, but who you are. Sirius will find that he needs you just as much as you need him. His reputation precedes him, but he is still growing,” Dumbledore said.

“I understand, but why would he protect me?!” Remus asked with growing frustration.

“Sirius has reason to keep you safe until Fenrir is dead. He is not untrustworthy,” Dumbledore stated with an air of finality. Remus gave an audible sigh, clearly frustrated. Sirius wanted to laugh, to tear the old man’s carefully constructed words of praise and security with a defiant and mocking chuckle. Instead, he remained silent and entertained the idea of hunting Remus after reclaiming his former body, ridding the world of any remaining traces of Fenrir.

* * *

Sirius deliberately avoided Remus and Dumbledore. He became like a ghost, always caught on the periphery as he would exit a room as soon as another entered. It was easier to avoid the pair when they were together because he would frequently hear the murmuring of voices traversing the halls as they held long debates. Remus’ responses were usually emotive and held an edge of frustration, whilst Dumbledore maintained his whimsical calmness. 

When given the peace to move as he pleased, Sirius assembled his few possessions and carefully packed them in his makeshift bag. He also searched the pantry and kitchen for any supplies he could carry. He did not want to take any more than he needed, gathering just enough to ensure he would not fall into immediate difficulty.

His patience was tested when he strapped on his armour and adjusted each segment. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally finished. 

Fresh dew clung to supple leaves, reflecting the morning light. Sirius stood on the threshold to Dumbledore's cottage as he considered whether there was anything else he needed, the wind playing gently with his hair.

“Are we leaving now? Let me just grab my bag from my room. I packed everything last night,” Remus said, breaking the silence. The werewolf had entered the room with curious eyes, gripping the doorframe as though he were holding himself up, understanding the situation from Sirius’ attire and fully packed bag. The only remnant of Sirius’ residency was his bed, which still sat in the main living space surrounded by books.

Sirius cursed that he had not left before dawn, having uncharacteristically overslept. He stood with a deliberate air of nonchalance, as though he had not been planning to leave before the pair noticed his absence. Perhaps he should have risked travelling under the cover of night. At the very least, he would have to learn how to move with more stealth. He was so used to the almost unavoidable ruckus that was caused by his larger centaur frame and the hard hooves knocking against the ground that he forgot humans could move far more discreetly. The werewolf had clearly heard him and was prepared to match his movements. Then again, Sirius was desperate to regain his former body and had to abide by Dumbledore’s terms.

“I’d like to say goodbye to Dumbledore before we leave,” Remus said. Sirius did not comment but turned away from the werewolf and stepped outside onto the front path. A light mist clung to the trees and the hills. Remus muttered under his breath before hitching his bag onto his shoulders and followed the hunter onto the dusty dirt road.

“Dumbledore mentioned that we were welcome to take a horse,” Remus quickly commented. For the first time, Sirius made a deliberate motion to show that he was acutely aware of the werewolf and not wholeheartedly ignoring him. He stood in the middle of the road and turned to simply glare at Remus, although his mask would have obscured his expression and so Remus was faced with a tall figure silently staring at him. Remus took a quick step back. He must have realised that he had insulted Sirius because he did not press the topic.

It took several hours of silence before Remus tried to converse with the masked hunter again.

“Where are we going?” Remus asked, limping slightly. Sirius suspected that his injuries from the last full moon were still causing him discomfort. Sirius was also suffering from his own wounds, but as far as the werewolf was concerned, he was uninhibited by any bodily complaints and could continue walking until dusk.

“Do not talk to me and keep your distance,” was all Sirius said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the smoothest first meeting . . . 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading. Please leave a comment or kudos if you'd like to read more.


	5. Chapter 4

Eventually, Sirius began to visibly limp. He had persevered, stopping only briefly to drink from a flask or to relieve himself, but as the day was drawing to a close so too seemed his endurance.

Sirius looked up and sighed. The sky was already peeling away the blue to make way for a procession of gold and orange. Sirius’ mood was steadily deteriorating with every step. He muttered irritably that he was accustomed to travelling much further in a shorter space of time. He cursed his human prison, angered that it was unable to keep up with his demands.

“It’s getting late. Perhaps we should think about setting up camp for the night,” Remus broached.

Sirius paused and seemed to contemplate his words.

“You’re also limping. Dumbledore told me that might happen since your legs are not completely healed. I could give you something to ease the pain,” Remus added as he moved to stand beside Sirius. He was about to continue when Sirius grunted and strode forward several paces.

However, Remus was surprised to hear Sirius say, “You’re right.” He had come to the conclusion that Sirius would never regard him as having the capability for intelligent thought, even to the point of ignoring any practical suggestions.

“Wait here,” Sirius said as he walked into the forest and left Remus standing in the middle of the road. Remus’ senses immediately pushed into overdrive. The road extended beyond the horizon in both directions, the forest standing proudly on either side. They were in the heart of nowhere, and Remus wondered whether Sirius had finally decided to abandon him.

Remus did not even dare pace, fearful of attracting unwanted attention. Despite living in wild forests for many years, he had only encountered a small proportion of what lurked there. For most creatures, there was little to be gained from hunting a large pack of werewolves. However, he had heard many stories of what happened to stragglers and oblivious wanderers.

He could feel his blood pulsing, fear settling in his bone. Dumbledore would seldom leave him alone, especially so close to nightfall. The unfamiliarity of his surroundings was also unnerving.

Remus jumped when he heard a nearby twig snapping and the sound of leaves being disturbed. Sirius stopped once he had caught Remus’ attention and beckoned him to follow. Remus was unsure whether to feel relieved or not. Despite Dumbledore’s reassurance, he did not trust Sirius.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Sirius said. Remus frowned at the natural clearing, staring down at the leaf littered floor. “Unless you’d prefer to entertain bandits and highwaymen,” Sirius added.

Remus understood that they could not sleep on the side of the road, but he could not shake his mounting concerns. He realised that he would eventually have to sleep, but he bristled at the thought of being so vulnerable whilst in the presence of a reputable monster hunter. Sirius’ injuries did not comfort the werewolf either. He imagined a whole series of gruesome deaths from creatures that could overpower Sirius in his weakened state.

Wanting to occupy his hands and divert his thoughts, Remus pulled open his bag and began to search through his supplies. Whilst the air would cool after sundown, it did not warrant excessive cover. The skies also promised a clear night and so he did not concern himself with building a shelter. Remus’ body ached from his transformation, and his suggestion to stop was as much for him as it was for the hunter. So, the werewolf prepared a temporary bed, building up several layers so that he would be comfortable.

Sirius, on the other hand, placed down a mat and considered his bedding complete.

Remus turned to find Sirius sweeping away the forest floor, pushing all the detritus material to the side of their clearing. Only after Sirius had begun digging a small pit did he realise that the hunter was preparing a campfire.

Wordlessly, Remus began to seek out and carry back rocks to contain the fire. He felt a compulsion to avoid being wholly useless. Sirius also remained silent, simply moving his hands out of the way to allow Remus to place the stones around the edge of the pit. They each gathered tinder and firewood without further instruction or comment. Remus found it mildly comforting that the centaur could react to his presence without immediate hostility.

This time, Sirius spoke first.

“I’ll return soon,” Sirius said after grabbing two small sacks from his bag. Remus was about to ask what Sirius was planning to do, but he had already turned his back to the werewolf and was moving through the trees out of sight. Remus sat on his makeshift bed and wondered how Sirius could push himself for so long.

* * *

The continuous lack of safety was beginning to severely disturb Remus’ nerves.

Again, Remus physically jolted when Sirius approached. This time, the hunter returned with full sacks, holding both by his side.

“I’ve brought food,” Sirius simply stated.

Sirius crouched down, close to where Remus was sitting, and begun to pull out the contents of one sack. He placed a variety of berries, roots and edible leaves on the swept forest floor. They all looked unappealing. Remus caught sight of Sirius’ covert glances, as though he was waiting for some reaction, but he pretended not to notice.

“I thought so,” Sirius said, unwilling to go into any further detail. It was then that Sirius pulled out a freshly killed wild rabbit from the other sack. Remus straightened up at the prospect of real food, but he made no other obvious movements.

“Do you know how to skin a rabbit?” Sirius asked.

“Yes,” Remus answered. Remus caught the small carcass that was thrown to him, hesitant to make the next move. Sirius sighed and leaned over to pull out a knife from his larger bag. He passed it to Remus after pointing with the tip of the blade towards the edge of the clearing.

“Won’t the smell of blood attract things?” Remus asked.

“Disregarding that this area is relatively safe, anything that might be interested in us is not going to be concerned with the smell of one small rabbit. If they consider us food, they’ll catch our scent one way or another without help. I thought werewolves lived in the forest, don’t you already know all this?” Sirius questioned Remus.

“Most creatures tend to avoid large packs of roaming werewolves,” Remus stated plainly. He stood up and moved to the edge of their clearing. Years of practice enabled him to make short work of the rabbit.

“Just how large is Fenrir’s pack?” Sirius asked. Remus hesitated, debating whether he should answer.

“It varies because the fatality rate is high. Disease, competition, hunters, feuds and even a rejected first transformation have a major impact,” Remus said. Sirius continued to stare at him through the mask, a statuesque figure that could seemingly wait indefinitely. “If I had to guess, I would say there is anywhere between fifteen and thirty at a time. Like I said, it really varies.”

“How did you survive so long?”

“What do you mean?” Remus feigned nonchalance. 

“You’re small for a werewolf. Your idea of being threatening is waving around a serrated knife. You have little survival instinct and you’re easily spooked,” Sirius listed. Remus felt heat rush into his cheeks as he realised that the hunter had noticed his uneasiness whilst being left alone.

“I’m not completely useless,” Remus said, evading a full answer.

“That remains to be seen,” Sirius muttered, causing Remus to frown.

Remus tried to cook the rabbit to the best of his abilities with the little he had. It was difficult, opting to skewer the meat and rest it over the open flames. It was a lengthy process and Sirius did not intervene as he ate the vegetable matter he had gathered.

When Remus was finally satisfied, he pulled the rabbit from the fire and offered Sirius his fair share. Whilst parts were blackened from being unevenly cooked, Remus still considered his efforts successful. The hunter looked at the offered meat, but quietly declined.

“It’s cooked through,” Remus tried to reassure in case he had offended Sirius. He did not want to be responsible for ruining the hunter’s dinner and further irritating him.

“I’m not partial to rabbit,” Sirius said before slipping another berry into his mouth. There did not seem to be any hidden malice or underlying threat in his tone, so Remus nodded and helped himself. Remus couldn’t understand why Sirius had caught the rabbit if he didn’t want to eat it. A part of Remus liked to believe that Dumbledore’s words were true and that Sirius would keep him safe. However, the more rational side of Remus decided it must have been on a whim, or that he just liked to kill. Perhaps it was some sort of twisted joke, and he was looking at Remus like he was a dog.

Almost as soon as they finished eating dinner, the pair had decided that being unconscious was preferable to maintaining an awkward conversation or tense silence. Neither slept comfortably, both listening out for danger. Sirius had even refused to remove most of his armour. As far as the other was concerned, their greatest threat was lying several feet away.

* * *

The blackened twigs lay cold. Almost as though on cue, Remus stirred as soon as Sirius had secured the final strap on his vambrace. Remus was perplexed at first, staring out at the forest with bleary eyes, but reality rammed into him and he sprung up. He frantically searched his surroundings, expecting Fenrir or some dangerous creature to appear. He stopped as soon as his eyes came to rest again on the masked hunter, who had barely acknowledged his panicked scramble as he rolled up his mat.

“Get moving, we need to leave,” Sirius said. Remus nodded quickly and moved to prepare.

They walked for miles, following the old and lonely road. Not even a merchants’ carriage could be seen. Their string of pleasant fortune came to an end when, without warning, they were surrounded by a pack of unusually large wolves. Sirius’ hand reached for the hilt of his sword as soon as the first grinning beast stood before them in the middle of the road. Within seconds its comrades blocked their chances for escape. Remus did not like his chances.

“Can you call them off?” Sirius asked Remus as though it were a viable option.

“I’m not an animal!” Remus harshly retorted, his hands balling into fists. Sirius glanced at him before returning his attention to the wolves.

The sword slid smoothly out of its scabbard and the blade glinted in the sunlight. Sirius smirked, squaring his shoulders in anticipation of a fight. As soon as his bag thudded to the ground, freeing his movement, the first wolf launched.

The wolves were determined and relentless, spurred on by some desperate rage. Remus found their behaviour strange, usually wolves had more sense, but he was distracted from such thoughts as he marvelled at Sirius. The sword came down and one wolf cried out. The process was repeated, the road becoming darker as it soaked in their blood. Sirius reacted to Remus’ sudden shout and kept the snapping jaws away from him. Despite his approaching victory, as Remus had no doubt he would succeed, an uneasy grimace had begun to form on his face. Every time a wolf came close to landing its own blow, his troubled expression grew.

“That was incredible,” Remus said after the last wolf was slain, eyes wide at the scene of carnage.

“It’s my job,” Sirius responded easily, hiding whatever concerns had been churning earlier. “You’re one of Fenrir’s. Can’t you fight?”

Remus’ gaze instantly dropped.

“No, I can’t,” Remus said. “I was always reprimanded because it should be in my nature.”

“Were you injured?” Sirius eventually asked after staring at Remus for an uncomfortable length of time.

“Injured?” Remus repeated, frowning slightly as he was brought out of his own pensive state.

“By the wolves, were you injured?” Sirius asked again.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. You managed to get them before they could bite me. Thank you,” Remus answered. Sirius grunted and bent over to wipe his blade on a patch of untainted fur. Once clean, he slid the sword back into its sheath and picked up his bag. Without another word, the pair continued on.

* * *

Sirius appeared more at ease as soon as they crossed a wooden bridge. Remus watched as the hunter took more time to regard his surroundings, his hands running softly down the weathered bark of trees they passed.

Remus chose to leave Sirius to his thoughts. He said nothing as Sirius strode forward, the hunter barely pausing when it came to forked paths. The surety of his step unintentionally comforted Remus.

They passed through several settlements before reaching a small and insignificant town. The area had grown too large to be considered a village, obtaining a few basic amenities such as a tavern and place of worship, but it was mainly inhabited by simple folk that regarded them with suspicion.

Remus watched as Sirius’ demeanour changed again and he seemed tense. Crickets chirped in the evening light, ignorant of the hunter’s mood as he stepped into the tavern. They sat by the bar, Remus shifting uncomfortably on his stool.

Sirius held up two fingers to the tavern keeper as he ordered two tankards of mead. The gruff looking bartender nodded in response and turned to supply them with their order.

Remus tried to still his quaking hands, prepared for someone to stand up and declare that there was a monster in their midst. He was rarely surrounded by so many humans. However, he found that eyes curiously followed his companion and left him alone. Remus uttered a small gasp when a tankard was suddenly placed in front of him, the honeyed liquid sloshing around in its container from the rough handling. Remus regarded the beverage, but Sirius immediately pulled the drink to his lips and drunk deeply.

Sirius appeared to be covertly waiting for something to occur. Remus could not understand why the unsociable hunter would choose to sit in a tavern full of humans when he had been so adamant about continuing their journey with a minimal amount of rest. Remus still did not know where the hunter was leading them.

Once several more individuals entered the tavern, Sirius’ entire posture changed yet again as he casually leaned back against the bar. Remus only realised that he had never properly seen Sirius’ face when he lowered his hood and begun to pull off the mask.

Remus’ heart traitorously quickened. The mask had a curious effect in that it darkened and obscured the area where the eye holes were. Now, Remus could see that Sirius’ eyes were liquid silver, another weapon to use against dark creatures. High cheekbones and a stern brow only made Sirius look more severe, but Remus could not help but stare. He was reminded of the paintings Dumbledore had shown him of ancient heroes, created to fit an ideal that was worthy of admiration.

“Wait here unless I call you,” Sirius said before sliding off his stool and walking across the room with his drink. With barely a pause, he wore a carefree grin. He greeted the group that had just arrived and sat beside a young woman who appeared flattered by the sudden attention.

Remus, feeling awkward and confused, sipped at the mead. He delighted at its sweetness and began to drink more frequently as he watched Sirius interact with the strangers. He had never seen the centaur so amiable and wondered how much of this personality was a construct and whether his ornery nature was primarily caused by his forced companionship with him. From the snippets of conversation that reached Remus’ ears over the constant burble of voices in the room, it was clear that Sirius was unfamiliar with the vibrant group. The only distinguishing feature that separated them from the rest of the revellers was their attire, clearly made of a finer and brighter quality than the local inhabitants.

Whenever Sirius called for another drink, Remus was also provided with a beverage. Despite being distanced from the group, forced to remain on the periphery, Remus did not feel completely isolated. Their laughter was contagious, eliciting a small smile from him. He wondered how life would be if he were completely human. Perhaps then he would have friends like the group of strangers. He supposed that Sirius was technically not human, but he was not a monster.

It was the early hours of the morning before Sirius reclaimed his place beside Remus, his wit still sharp despite the gentle sway in his movements.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” Sirius told Remus. Remus nodded and stood up, grabbing the counter when he realised just how much more affected by the alcohol he was than he thought.

Sirius guided them to a nearby pasture, only giving the wider area around them a cursory glance.

“Get some sleep whilst you can,” Sirius said as he placed his bag to the side and lay down on the cool grass.

“Are we sleeping here?” Remus asked, noticing a slight slur to his speech.

“The night is warm and the grass is soft. We’re close to a bunch of violent and stupid humans, which usually scares off most pests,” Sirius mumbled, eyes already closed.

“I was thinking of things that considered humans a part of their diet,” Remus answered quietly as he surveyed their surroundings more critically.

“If there was something lurking in the area, I would have heard something. No one is afraid and there are no rumours. Not even a cow has been taken,” Sirius answered, more vocal than usual.

“I suppose so,” Remus said quietly, unconvinced.

In one fluid motion, Sirius reached up to grab Remus’ arm and pulled him down to the ground.

“Just go to sleep. You’re making me nervous,” Sirius complained before closing his eyes again, a small frown on his features. Remus sat perplexed, but then he shrugged and resigned himself to whatever fate awaited them. It didn’t take long for the pair to fall asleep, neither deeming it important to keep vigil.

* * *

“What did you want from that group at the tavern?” Remus finally asked as they continued their journey. Sirius grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly feeling the pain from last night’s enjoyments.

“Information,” Sirius said.

“What sort of information?” Remus continued. It had been several hours since their last exchange of words, and Remus was realising that he would have to push if we wanted to remain informed. He did not enjoy the prospect of blindly trusting the hunter for every decision. He also wanted to know more about Sirius. He wanted to be able to read and understand the person who held his life in their hands.

Sirius sighed. “Travellers are usually well informed about what’s happening on the local roads. I was hoping to hear something interesting or useful. It’s also a decent method for finding future work,” he commented.

“So, did you hear anything interesting?” Remus tried his luck to see if he could get the centaur to continue answering his questions.

“How many questions are you going to ask? If I tell you, will you be quiet?” Sirius said, similarly realising he was being more talkative than usual.

“Yes,” Remus murmured.

“Good. They told me something unexpected, but interesting. We’re making a slight detour,” Sirius told Remus.

“Where are we going?” Remus asked without thought and was rebuked with a frosted glare. Sirius’ pace quickened, stepping ahead of Remus to reiterate that their conversation was over.

Remus did not even hesitate to follow Sirius when he stepped off the road and followed a disused pathway through the forest. Remus tried to orientate himself, memorising landmarks so that he would be able to find the road again in an emergency.

Remus had even less hope of understanding Sirius because he had put the mask back on. The subtle twitch of Sirius’ mouth and the careful positioning of his body was all Remus could use to analyse the centaur. Sirius scanned the forest floor, pushing aside foliage as he searched.

Remus’ senses responded to the taste of conflict in the air, although it was steadily dissipating. He noticed that the forest had been disturbed, twigs snapped and soil churned from recent action. Sirius moved faster, clearly having found what he had been searching for. Remus strained to listen for any lingering danger. Sirius did not seem perturbed, focusing on his current task.

Finally, Sirius made a triumphant sound as he plucked something off its bed of leaves. Sirius contemplated the object, turning it over in one hand whilst the other rested on his chin.

“I wonder,” Sirius muttered.

He tossed the object to Remus, who instinctively caught it. Remus cried out in pain, dropping the broken arrowhead as he gripped his wounded hand. He grimaced; a miniscule stream of smoke flitted into view before disappearing. He hissed when he lifted his fingers to see a vicious looking burn on his hand.

“Interesting,” Sirius commented. “We’re going the right way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, I'm not partial to rabbit either. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a kudos or a comment as I'd really appreciate it.


	6. Chapter 5

Sirius was unrepentant as he continued his search through the forest. Remus held his injured hand tenderly with the other, wincing on occasion. Reluctantly, Remus followed the hunter, keeping his distance without straying too far.

Sirius quickly reached towards Remus, he grasped the werewolf’s forearm and held him in an iron grip. Remus was startled by the action, but Sirius ignored the concern and fear that flashed across his face. He pulled Remus behind the wide trunk of a tree, pushing his shoulders so that he was pinned against the rough wood. 

“Stay here,” Sirius whispered harshly, more of a warning than a command. He took several steps back and turned away from Remus, only stopping briefly to decide which direction he should go in. He glanced over his shoulder once, not trusting the werewolf to abide by his orders, before heading further into the trees and out of his line of sight. 

Sirius ignored the humming pain, and despite a slight limp he wasn’t hindered too greatly. He could still move without drawing too much attention to himself.

Several men came into view, stalking through the area with a practiced quietness. They did not appear to be in the middle of a pursuit, simply travelling through, but their movements suggested a constant readiness for action that Sirius was familiar with.

Deciding not to startle the group of hunters, Sirius began to whistle a playful tune. Whilst the men still turned towards him with raised weapons they did not immediately attack.

“Not another step,” a gruff voice growled out.

Sirius paused before taking a deep breath. No longer was he a tense coil, ready to spring and react to the slightest provocation, but a spoiled house cat with fluid limbs and a confident sense of ease. With a practiced performance, and a theatrical sigh, he smirked and raised his hands to show that he meant no harm.

“Looks like you could use a step, Moody,” Sirius called to the one who spoke first.

The man quirked a brow, his cobalt gaze then narrowed as he regarded the masked figure of Sirius. He stood with a measured stillness as he analysed him. He was fully armed, clad in a long coat that Sirius knew was filled with contraptions and other useful devices, but he kept his crossbow lowered and made no move to reach for anything offensive. He had an impressive commanding quality, his companions naturally gravitating towards him, and so the only unmeasured motion was the slight swaying of his flaxen hair in the breeze.

Sirius did not react when the man he called Moody took five steps towards him, limping as his weight shifted to accommodate the sturdy prosthetic leg. The man had clearly gone for functionality over aesthetics.

“You know me?” Moody asked gruffly, choosing to ignore the comment about his new features.

“Yes, and you should know me,” Sirius said as he removed the mask that concealed the upper half of his face. His mask was becoming a comforting form of anonymity, allowing him to control who knew of his most recent shame, and so removing it made him suddenly feel more vulnerable.

Moody’s frown deepened as he took several more steps towards Sirius. He could see how the man held his name on the tip of his tongue. He came uncomfortably close, making it clear that whilst his mind struggled for an answer he somehow knew that Sirius was not a threat.

“No, it can’t be. Can it?” Moody asked, staring wide-eyed at Sirius’ very human form.

“No, I’m sorry, but I am not your son,” Sirius teased.

“Sirius, you arse,” Moody said as he affectionately shoved Sirius’ shoulder. “What on this wretched world happened to you?”

“You’re also lacking in the leg department, what happened to you?” Sirius replied.

Moody’s men, although clearly confused, steadily lowered their weapons and waited for Moody to give further instruction.

“Damned vampire bit my leg, so I had to hack it off,” Moody said.

“How did a vampire get near your leg?” Sirius asked.

“I chopped off his first. My contractor wanted them alive for some damn reason or another, but I was ambushed and the bloody amputee could still crawl,” Moody said. He then nodded towards Sirius, expecting an explanation. Sirius and Moody had formed a mutual partnership and a certain degree of transparency over the years. They were both highly skilled and, after a potentially fatal encounter where both parties had withheld vital information from the other, found they could be decent allies if they were willing to try.

“Fenrir caught me. He’s not only bigger than I remember, but he knows how to transform without the full moon. I didn’t even realise what was happening until I was pinned down,” Sirius told his old comrade.

“Well, shit,” Moody stated eloquently. “How did you escape? How did you . . . ?” Moody left the question hanging, his eyes glancing down towards Sirius’ legs. Whilst he could not fully realise Sirius’ distress at the transformation, he knew he would not be pleased by his situation.

“Something caught Fenrir’s attention and he left me for dead. When I woke up, I was like this. The wizard that _rescued_ me told me that his name was Dumbledore and that he had transformed my lower half because I had irreparably broken my legs. He said this was my only chance to walk again and get revenge,” Sirius explained.

“ _The_ Dumbledore, like from the legends?” Moody said with a raised brow, partially dubious and slightly impressed. “I’m sorry to hear about your legs.” 

“I have little choice in the matter,” Sirius dismissed, tossing away the subject with a casual sweep of his hand. “However, because of my situation, I need your help.”

“What do you need?” Moody asked. Sirius knew that Moody was not immediately agreeing to assist him, and so he had to be careful with how he phrased his request. Sirius quickly glance over Moody’s shoulder, thankful that he was still relatively tall compared to most humans and judged whether the rest of the hunters would overhear their conversation. Whilst he preferred their entire verbal exchange remain private, he knew that certain matters were in greater need of secrecy. Satisfied, Sirius leaned in.

“This body is strange. I can still fight, but it’s not the same. I’ll die if I face Fenrir again like this. I need someone who knows me and who really knows how to fight as a hunter,” Sirius began. 

“So, what are you saying?” Moody asked, wanting to get to the point.

“I want you to teach me how to fight again, as a human,” Sirius said.

“James?” Moody questioned, but it was said almost hesitantly. Moody was well aware that the pair considered each other family in all but blood.

“He’s alive,” Sirius said quickly to avoid any misunderstandings, but his heart still clenched as he felt their separation. “He probably thinks I’m dead, though. I was stupid and rash. I ran out and left him behind as soon as I heard Fenrir was in the area. I just wanted to get revenge after all those years of waiting.”

Sirius’ fists were clenched at his side as he unwittingly stomped his foot.

“I take it you’re on your way back to find him?” Moody surmised.

Sirius nodded. “I discovered you were in the area whilst on the way. Admittedly, I haven’t had to think about it all too deeply with everything that’s happened, but I’ve done him wrong. I can only hope he’ll forgive me.”

“Then why did you come and find me?”

“Honestly, you’re more experienced and your style is closer to mine. James prefers distance over close combat. If he forgives me, we need variation or we won’t be able to cover each other’s weaknesses,” Sirius told Moody bluntly.

Moody seemed to contemplate his decision briefly before sighing loudly. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.” Moody was about to turn and march back to his companions, expecting Sirius to follow, when Sirius placed a hand on Moody’s shoulder.

“Wait,” he said. “There’s something else.”

Sirius recounted the terms of Dumbledore’s proposal to Moody, explaining how with Fenrir’s death and Remus’ protection he would potentially be able to regain his former body. He also decided to emphasise Dumbledore’s opinion of the werewolf and his qualities whilst avoiding mention of his own thoughts on the matter. A part of Sirius feared Dumbledore’s wrath if he failed in his appointed duties. During the entire speech, Moody kept silent and maintained a fixed frown.

After a brief and tense pause Moody asked, “Where is he?”

Sirius turned on his heel and began to walk back towards Remus, trusting that Moody would not immediately attack him. Moody, with a quick command to his comrades that they remain and keep vigilant until he returned, followed Sirius.

* * *

Remus regarded Sirius warily once he noticed his approach. His shoulders immediately tensed when Moody came into view. Sirius watched as the werewolf regarded the man with fear, probably having seen Moody’s treasured crossbow, and took several steps back.

“Remus, this is my friend, Moody,” Sirius said.

“Hello, Remus,” Moody said as he extended a hand to greet the werewolf.

Remus cautiously approached and reached towards the outstretched hand. He seemed to provide a suitable handshake as Moody grunted in approval. Sirius snorted but chose not to comment further.

Moody leaned closer towards the werewolf, scrutinizing him carefully. Remus stood his ground, but he began to lean back and nervously glanced at Sirius. Sirius was confident that Moody would not use any sudden underhanded tactics, but he still took a step closer to the pair.

“Interesting,” he finally commented, having seen something of interest.

Sirius tilted his head, motioning for an explanation, but Moody simply grunted again and gave his approximation of a smile.

“Watch this one closely. He’ll be an asset or a bloody pain in the arse,” Moody finally said.

“Is that because of what he is, or is there a particular reason I should be aware of?” Sirius asked. Remus folded his arms as he squirmed under Sirius’ gaze.

“Nothing you should be aware of yet,” Moody answered cryptically. Sirius quirked a brow, but knew Moody had some method to his madness.

“Don’t worry, Remus. You won’t be harmed by me or my men. But I wouldn’t bring up what you are around the others. Some prefer to see the world in black and white. It makes things easier,” Moody said.

Remus looked to Sirius for further clarification. Sirius contemplated whether he should just ignore the expectant look of an explanation, force Remus to simply follow and deal with what came, but he decided to do him a small service.

“We’re going to stay with some hunters for a few nights. You’ll be safe,” Sirius said.

* * *

Even Sirius could see that Remus was miserable, being pulled further and further away from any form of comfort or familiarity. Moody’s companions were critical of the new additions, but more so of Remus as they sensed something was peculiar about the young man. It also didn’t help that whilst Remus was fairly tall, he was slim and looked almost dainty compared to the walls of muscle that surrounded him. They saw him as a liability.

Sirius, watching the judgemental expressions on the faces of his temporary acquaintances as they walked back to Moody’s camp, became more irritable and met any curious glances his way with a frosted glare. To emphasise his annoyance, he moved to walk beside Remus and silently dared for anyone to make a comment. Moody was almost certainly aware of what was occurring but chose to act oblivious to the entire exchange.

* * *

The camp contained several more hunters, all attending daily chores. Remus shielded himself with Sirius’ body, practically leaning against the hunter as they walked through with the others.

There was nothing terrifying about Moody’s groups as they simply continued with their tasks and maintained idle conversation. The pale tents were neatly placed, lined up in a row that went at a slight curve. One end of the camp was clearly used for domestic affairs, complete with fallen logs to serve as benches around a campfire, whilst the other was more for business and held an impressive selection of hunting equipment. However, Remus appeared as though he were going through an immense ordeal and Sirius wondered if the werewolf was prone to fainting. It was then that Sirius took another look at the camp, looking at it with new eyes. 

Beside those pale tents, hanging on quickly assembled racks, were the skins of dark creatures. Sirius was almost certain, although he couldn’t be sure without touching, that the thicker furs were from werewolves. Beside the hunting equipment lay a table with an array of knives and various utensils used for dissecting and sorting. Some of these instruments were bloody, having been freshly used. Tossed into piles or baskets were pieces of bone and organ.

Whilst Sirius knew that many hunters survived by ensuring that nothing useful went to waste, selling or making equipment from what they killed, he realised that for Remus it must have been like walking into a personal slaughterhouse. The corpses of his own kind lay dismantled around him, and yet Remus was expected to appear unperturbed. For once, Sirius could empathise with Remus and felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“Remus,” he said, knocking his hand into the werewolf’s arm to gain his attention.

Remus had been focusing on a particular pelt, and although he made an indication that he was listening his eyes remained on the fur. Sirius sighed and, with deliberate care, held Remus’ wrist. Immediately, he captured Remus’ full attention.

“It is necessary that we stay here for a few days, but I promise I will protect you. You’re safe with me. No one will harm you here,” Sirius said, mustering as much sincerity as possible.

Remus didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he nodded once. The smile he presented did not touch his eyes, and upon looking down to where Sirius was still holding his wrist, Sirius let go.

“Why do you have so many men, Moody?” Sirius asked, knowing that Moody ultimately preferred travelling alone.

“Times are changing my friend, it’s no longer a one-man game,” Moody answered.

“Have you developed a hobby for riddles,” Sirius teased.

“Shoot me if I do. No, but you must have seen it. Everything’s getting harder,” Moody went on to say.

“Perhaps old age is catching up with you,” Sirius said, moving out of Moody’s striking range.

“That mouth of yours will end up with you losing the other two legs,” Moody warned. “What you saw with Fenrir, we’ve been seeing it too, but with other dark creatures. They’re gaining new tactics and forming bigger groups. They’ve stepped up their game, and so have we.”

“That’s an uncomfortable thought,” Sirius said. Moody grunted in agreement. 

* * *

Moody was surprisingly accommodating, supplying Remus with books whilst Sirius trained with him during the day. As the other hunters were kept busy, with a low tolerance on slackers, Remus could enjoy relative peace on the fringes of the camp. He refused to venture further in or actively engage with anyone other than Moody.

Sirius was comforted that Remus was able to keep occupied and remain out of trouble whilst he focused on more pressing matters. Moody may have been a friend, but he was a formidable opponent and refused to give Sirius any preferential treatment.

“You can turn faster now, use it!” Moody yelled out as he tried to flank the centaur.

Sirius found it difficult to turn on his heel without losing balance, but he was steadily improving. He met Moody’s blade and deflected the blow.

They were in a small clearing, within shouting distance of camp, and occasionally Moody would call for reinforcements to increase the pace of training. The other hunters seemed to enjoy trying to prove Sirius’ inadequacy, but Sirius was anything but fresh to the game and could adapt fast enough that he was able to teach some of his own lessons.

Sirius was soon exhausted, and in a fair amount of pain, but his willpower was able to overcome such obstacles. Sometimes he wore the mask, getting used to the strange form of sight within a fighting context, and at other times he removed it so that he did not become dependent. Either way, Moody pushed and produced one savage blow after another.  
  


* * *

Days bled into each other, and before long almost two weeks had passed.

Sirius practiced with a variety of weaponry, still maintaining a preference for swords, and was constantly reprimanded on his footwork. Fortunately, he was still a centaur where it mattered and was gifted with the enviable ability to learn whatever he pursued quickly. He was prepared to show what being a centaur meant, even if his body did not appear as such.

“Yes, now don’t leave your back open, you can’t kick like you used to,” Moody said as one of his more senior hunters came at Sirius with a broadsword. Moody was not shy about addressing Sirius’ new physique.

Sirius swivelled around and dodged the hunter’s blow. He held his own sword, thinner and smaller than he was used to, but easier to swing. He knew he lacked in some areas, needing to refine the grace of his movements and the expenditure of energy, but he was becoming a better opponent.

With a feigned step to the left, Sirius twisted to the right and brought the hilt of his sword to ram into the ribs of his fighting partner. The man grunted and moved to swing his sword again, but Sirius had anticipated this move and with another quick step he kicked behind the hunter’s knees. Sirius followed through with several more attacks until his adversary was on the floor and clutching his wrist. The broadsword lay abandoned in the dust.

“Not bad,” his opponent commented.

“You’re getting better,” Moody admitted as he crossed into their sparring area. He had been leaning against a tree, watching the fight and ready to yell at both sides. As much as he was training Sirius, he was also there to help his own men.

“I’ve got the right foundation now. I just need to practice and refine,” Sirius said, mentally noting each aspect he needed to concentrate and improve on.

“Want to put theory into practice?” Moody asked.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“We found a group of giants. They’ve started taking livestock, and even managed to kill a few game hunters that wandered too close. There’s a decent bounty on their corpses, especially as they’re getting bolder and venturing closer to human settlements,” Moody told him.

“I’m in,” Sirius stated.

* * *

Sirius’ shoulder rammed into the hunter’s side, pushing their bodies far enough to the side so that they narrowly missed the crude mallet the odorous giant wielded. Sirius regained a fighting stance, desperate to finish as he could not escape the putrid stench that clung to the creature’s coarse hair.

Despite Sirius’ concentration on his current target, his gaze constantly flickered towards the trees. Although giants were large, they weren’t quite the spectacle of a dragon and could camouflage amongst the foliage. Their tall and thin frames combined with the dark hairs that covered most of their bodies allowed them to seemingly disappear into the forest. They were unexpectedly adept at ambush tactics and combined with their sheer brute strength they were lethal.

Moody bellowed from across the small clearing, trying to redirect the attention of the giant he was currently fighting. Consequently, Sirius’ giant, momentarily distracted, turned away just long enough for Sirius to lunge forward and slice through a tendon. The hulking creature howled in pain, one arm reaching for its leg whilst the other swiped madly in the hopes of pulverising its assailant. Sirius had already sprung back out of range. The hunter that was accompanying Sirius had also pulled back and was trying to aim a poisoned arrow at the brute.

Whilst giants had their own culture and were even capable of speech, they kept to their nomadic and ancestral origins. They relied heavily on ancient methods that had been passed through the generations, continuing to regard most other life forms as a possible extension of their diet. This meant they were predictable to a certain extent, and it was something the hunters exploited.

Each time a giant was distracted, their weapon waving towards the focus of their annoyance, another hunter struck. The process was repeated until one giant fell, its life quickly snuffed out once it could no longer defend itself. The second giant fell soon after, distraught at the loss of its companion and unable to outmanoeuvre its attackers.

The hunters continued to stalk the remaining giants, tracking them swiftly as the next was never far from the last. Only once were the hunters caught unaware as a large male burst through the trees. The blond hunter that favoured archery moved aside just in time to avoid a fatal blow, but his arm was smashed upon impact as it was kicked by the giant’s powerful leg.

By the time the hunters were finished, it was too dark to see the blood that stained their clothes. The injured were roughly patched up, but because there were no fatalities and even the worst injuries were not life-threatening the mood was light. The blond hunter with the damaged arm was given enough painkillers that he hardly complained. He only moaned on occasion on what would happen if his arm had to be amputated. Moody quickly dispelled those fears and soon everyone was recounting their favourite moments from the hunt as they returned to camp.

“You did well,” Moody said as he thumped Sirius on the back.

“I was taught by the best,” Sirius responded with a wide grin.

“Flatterer,” Moody grumbled, but he was also smiling.

* * *

Laughter joined the crackling of firewood as all the hunters sat around the campfire that night. Venison was being roasted over the open flames whilst seasonal vegetables stewed in a large pot. One of the senior hunters, a woman with vibrant copper eyes and streaks of grey in her wild mane dramatically retold the hunt to the rest of the group. On occasion she was interrupted for another relevant addition to the tale, but ultimately, she was watched with the same fascination a child has for bedtime stories.

The only individual missing from the feast was the blond archer, as he had passed out shortly after being treated at camp.

Sirius was almost too caught up in the festivities to notice that Remus had curled into himself and was barely touching his food. Remus sat close to his keeper, but still with enough distance that he was not at risk of accidentally touching Sirius. The way the fire’s light ghosted over Remus’ bowed head and hunched form had eventually caught Sirius’ attention.

“Upset that the hunters won?” Sirius asked.

Remus’ head shot up to stare at Sirius with wide and frightened eyes.

“No,” Remus replied, almost breathlessly. “I’m glad that no one here died.”

“Missing your pack?” Sirius asked, wondering if werewolves had similar evenings after a full moon.

Remus shook his head and looked down at his plate as though he was concentrating on eating, but he did not touch the food.

“Why are you upset?” Sirius asked. He was beginning to feel annoyed that his mood was being tainted by Remus’ melancholy. He would have ignored the werewolf if it were possible, but Remus could be very distracting for someone so quiet.

“I’m not,” Remus replied weakly, barely above a murmur. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“How about answering that again without lying to me,” Sirius said. He spoke quietly and kept his tone level, but Remus still tensed up.

Remus seemed to chew on the words for several seconds before sighing. “I wish the giants didn’t have to die.”

“Why?” Sirius asked.

“They’re just trying to live,” Remus said, albeit barely above a whisper.

“The giants were attacking humans and livestock. They were a threat,” Sirius said.

“Were they really? What would you have done if you were a giant? How does killing them make you any better?” Remus questioned, a small fire burning in his gaze. Sirius’ eyebrows rose at the change in his demeanour.

“We were protecting human lives, humans that can’t defend themselves,” Sirius answered him.

“They were protecting their family,” Remus said.

“Do we have a giant sympathiser here?” a young redhead jeered at the werewolf.

The fight suddenly fled Remus and he shrunk down, looking bewildered and afraid at being overheard. Sirius suspected that Remus had forgotten that hunters have keener senses compared to the average human. Remus placed the plate of untouched food down on the bench beside him and his posture signalled that he was prepared to flee. His fingers dug into the smooth bark.

“It’s none of your business,” Sirius remarked.

“No, it is. It’s not very nice to have someone so unappreciative of our services when they’re relying on us to keep them safe in the first place,” the hunter continued with a slight slur from all the alcohol he had consumed.

“Remus has nothing to do with you. He is under my care, so I would appreciate it if you would back off,” Sirius said. Remus looked physically ill, which was understandable considering that everyone at the camp was trained specifically to hunt and kill his kind.

“It doesn’t work like that. You’re in our camp and using our resources,” the redhead argued as he stood up. 

“That’s enough, Gideon,” Moody warned him.

Gideon ignored Moody and strode towards the centaur and the werewolf. Sirius wondered if the hunter would have been so brave if he was back in his original body. Most people were intimidated by centaurs, and for good reasons. Sirius was almost insulted that Gideon thought he was a fair match.

“I knew something was wrong with that one. I bet he likes other beasts too. Does he have a fetish?” Gideon continued.

It took only a moment for Sirius to understand what Gideon was referring to and his shock quickly transformed into disgust. Sirius glanced down at Remus and saw that the young werewolf was equally appalled. Remus’ face was flushed red, enhanced by the glow of the firelight, but he remained silent.

“That’s enough,” Sirius told Gideon.

“What? Protecting a pervert? You like it too?” Gideon pushed. Sirius had never been so blatantly and openly disrespected. Every insult that Sirius could recollect had been muttered quietly or veiled under layers of rhetoric.

Sirius looked towards the other hunters and saw that they were silently waiting too see what would happen next. He knew they would defend their comrade if the need arose. Some seemed amused by Gideon’s words, but Sirius did not know whether it was because their friend looked like a fool or they agreed with him. The centaur looked towards Moody and met his gaze with a silent request. Moody nodded once; his lips drawn into a thin line.

Gideon took another step towards Sirius, invading his personal space. Gideon was smirking, about to continue with his rant, when Sirius struck the young hunter quickly, precisely, and hard. In the same second Gideon was smirking he was on the floor and gasping for air. Sirius had successfully winded him and stared down at the gasping man with a sneer.

“Remus and I are going to retire for the evening. I suggest that you avoid wandering too close to us tonight,” Sirius addressed the group before looking at Remus. Remus quickly stood up and followed close on Sirius’ heel.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Remus said to Sirius’ back as they lay down on opposite sides of the small tent. Sirius had chosen to lie down beside the entranceway, keeping vigilant despite knowing that Moody would probably dissuade anyone from making a night-time visit.

“For what?” Sirius asked.

“For making the other hunters angry,” Remus answered.

“You only bothered a drunken fool, which is a fairly unspectacular accomplishment,” Sirius said. He heard the werewolf chuckle.

“I’m not sorry about what I said, though. I still think what I said about the giants was right,” Remus then added, but more quietly.

“I’m glad to see you have a backbone,” Sirius told Remus. Sirius took a deep breath as he considered whether to continue. “You’re also not wrong.”

Even though Remus remained silent, Sirius felt Remus’ unease and confusion pressing into his back. Sirius could sense Remus’ distrust, as though he were expecting Sirius to lead him into a verbal trap. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius thought deeply about a great many things and Remus’ words had caught his interest. Sirius also understood matters relating to otherness more than most humans. 

“However, we do not live in an ideal world. If you can’t change, you’ll eventually perish. Just as much as the giant has a right to protect its own way of life, we have a right to protect ours,” Sirius continued.

There was a long pause before Remus spoke. “To what extent can something be considered as _protecting your own_?”

Sirius did not have to think too long on what Remus was referring to. Fenrir was a brutish beast that destroyed anything that even remotely offended him.

“I don’t know. I think it depends on the situation and whether you’re willing to let others live if they’re not a present threat to you,” Sirius said.

“Dumbledore said that fear can make even a kind person do horrible things,” Remus said.

“Fear is its own monster, and if you can’t subdue it when necessary it will kill you,” Sirius responded.

“Are you afraid of me?” Remus asked hesitantly.

“Hoping I’ll die from fear?” Sirius immediately retorted.

“No. I just don’t want to be feared as a monster,” Remus admitted.

“If I were afraid of you, I would have to quit being a hunter. You’re as frightening as Dumbledore’s casserole,” Sirius said seriously. 

“What?”

“Look, I’m not going to be afraid of a plate of food, but that doesn’t mean I’m not justifiably cautious of it. I still don’t know what those purple seeds were,” Sirius explained. 

“You want to eat me?” Remus asked with mock scandal as he responded to Sirius’ light mood.

What Remus probably did not expect was for the silence to be broken by a snort of laughter from Sirius.

Sirius tried not to let his mind wander, but perhaps the previous argument with Gideon was still occupying his thoughts and had unwittingly guided his line of thinking.

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Remus quickly cried out once he realised how his words could have been taken. 

Sirius was unable to withhold his laughter any longer. What started as a soft chuckle was gradually growing into a full-blown laughing fit.

“Oh no,” Remus whined. 

“Just go to sleep Remus. I’ll wake you up if I get hungry,” Sirius said, still snickering on occasion. 

Remus dramatically groaned and Sirius listened as the werewolf rolled over.

* * *

“Thanks for handling Gideon the way you did. He’s a good kid, but he needs a hard lesson on occasion,” Moody said as he walked beside Sirius the next morning.

The amiable atmosphere from last night had cooled between Sirius and Remus by the morning. Some of the ice had thawed, but the tension had returned. Remus was reluctant to leave the tent, not wanting to cause anymore friction with the hunters, so Sirius volunteered to retrieve breakfast for the pair. Truthfully, Sirius also wanted to avoid any possible altercations so early in the morning.

“He doesn’t take too kindly to monster sympathisers. His ma was bewitched by a vampire and it eventually killed her,” Moody explained.

“That doesn’t mean he should drag everyone else into his problems. We all have a past and it doesn’t exempt us from the consequence of our decisions in the present,” Sirius replied.

Sirius had refined his anger so that it was just as much a weapon as his sword. His vengefulness was imperfect, but he expended a large amount of effort into channelling his frustrations down a productive path.

Inwardly, Sirius knew he may have been overly antagonistic towards the young werewolf in his care, but he also wasn’t prepared to suddenly ignore years of paranoia and wariness that had kept him alive. His actions had a purpose. 

“Centaurs and their ageless wit,” Moody grumbled. “You can blame most of his behaviour on the booze.”

“If he can’t control himself, then he shouldn’t be drinking,” Sirius answered.

“You’re giving another centaur witticism?” Moody asked with a smirk. Sirius gave an audible sigh.

“This isn’t about –. Look, if I had been in my original body, I probably would have kicked him. There’s a good chance he’d be dead right now. I admire you a great deal, but I will not tolerate being disrespected,” Sirius told Moody.

For the first time, as Moody frowned, Sirius felt he was being seen for what he truly was rather than the human he appeared.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Moody eventually relented.

“You know it’ll save him in the long run,” Sirius said without looking at his mentor. He was perusing the small selection of jams on display. After a brief pause to decide, he grabbed an apricot variety to accompany the loaf of bread he was carrying.

Moody understood Sirius was not referring to himself as a threat to Gideon’s life. The hunter lifestyle was dangerous. It had been Gideon’s extraordinary good fortune to insult a centaur and a werewolf in the same breath and only end up with the breath knocked out of him. The boy would not last long if he could not control or harness his anger.

“You’re getting wiser,” Moody commented, to which Sirius scoffed.

“I was just given enough hard lessons and the opportunity to learn from them.” Sirius did not know whether his words were true, but he hoped so.

* * *

After two days, tensions settled enough that Sirius and Gideon could maintain a brief and civil conversation. Remus refused to even acknowledge Gideon unless he had no other choice.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Remus quietly said to Sirius once he had returned from sparring practice.

“What is it?” Sirius asked, immediately wondering if something had occurred during his absence. His hand wandered towards the hilt of his sword, but a nervous glance from Remus made him conscious of the movement and so he folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s two days until the full moon,” Remus said, head bowed.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning then. I’ve done what I’ve come here for and we’re only a day’s journey away from where we’re going,” Sirius said.

Remus nodded, but refused to look up.

“Is there anything you need for the full moon? What do you usually do?” Sirius eventually asked. Sirius did not know whether he was being insulting, but he was not about to risk his life for the sake of etiquette.

“I have a supply of wolfsbane potion, so I’ll be fully in control. I will not be a risk to you or to any humans,” Remus replied, knowing exactly what Sirius needed to hear.

Sirius nodded, but he still wondered to what extent he could trust Remus’ words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or a kudos as I'd really appreciate it.


	7. Chapter 6

They left before dawn, saying their farewells the night before.

Moody had pulled Sirius briefly aside after dinner, leaving Remus to ignore the withering gazes of the other hunters. At least such occurrences were coming to an end. What Remus did not expect was for Moody to eventually motion for him to join their discussion. Remus cautiously approached, frowning when Sirius retreated to the campfire, and stood awkwardly in front of Moody. Moody’s expression never changed when he wished Remus success before warning him of what would occur if he ever betrayed Sirius. Remus tried to deflect his disconcerting gaze by remarking that Sirius was the greater threat, but Moody simply told him not to mock his intelligence and that he would not harm Remus so long as he remained genuine.

Remus thought a great deal about Moody’s words as they walked, wondering what the strange hunter knew and whether he had told Sirius of his suppositions. The werewolf could not decide whether he should be more afraid of the truth or a fanciful story. Fortunately, Sirius had not changed. The hunter was still cold and guarded, but not to the extent he was hostile.

“What happens when you don’t drink wolfsbane? Do you completely lose control?” Sirius asked, bringing Remus out of his thoughts. Remus regarded Sirius, aware that he was not simply making idle conversation. He thought for a moment on how to answer.

“Not exactly,” Remus finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“I suppose you could say it’s like having an animalistic alter ego. You’re still somewhat aware of what’s going on, but you’re no longer really yourself. It’s like having all of your priorities shifted,” Remus answered, speaking slowly as he tested each word on his tongue.

“Can you control yourself at all?” Sirius said.

“It’s not impossible. It’s hard to judge how you’ll act when you’re just so different and, quite frankly, less inhibited. It’s hard to explain.” Remus kept his gaze fixed on Sirius, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Does this alter ego share any aspects of its original host?” Sirius asked.

“Could you elaborate?” Remus did not know where Sirius was leading this conversation and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. He also didn’t want to volunteer information unnecessarily.

“Is the werewolf like how you are now in any way, or is it a completely different creature?” Sirius elaborated.

“May I use Fenrir as an example?”

Sirius finally turned to properly regard Remus, clearly intrigued. Remus hoped that diverting the conversation onto Fenrir would make his position less precarious.

“Fenrir is naturally cruel, ruthless, manipulative and power-hungry. He embraces his identity as a werewolf,” said Remus. Fenrir’s character was no secret and Remus felt that Sirius would appreciate his observations. “No one is certain whether he simply finds inspiration from his wolf side or if his two personalities are beginning to blend together. When he transforms, because the beast’s motives are closely aligned with his own, they help each other. If Fenrir targets several people in a village, the wolf will kill them.”

“Interesting,” Sirius quietly murmured. “What are you like?”

Fear jolted through Remus and he felt his heart pick up its rhythm. He was certain he had just wandered into a trap and was just waiting for it to spring.

“I prefer to avoid physical confrontations. I avoid trouble,” Remus stated simply, hoping he would be believed.

Sirius seemed to contemplate his words before a small smirk tugged at his lips. Remus wanted to know what he was thinking, but he dared not ask. Eventually, Sirius frowned, and Remus carefully moved a little further away from the hunter. 

“Do you know why Fenrir can transform without the full moon?” Remus was caught unprepared by the question.

“I did not think it was possible until Dumbledore told me,” Remus answered truthfully.

“Do you have any ideas about it?” Sirius pressed.

“Honestly, no. I knew Fenrir had been trying to do it for years, but no one believed he would actually succeed. I just know that it makes him far more dangerous than before.”

Sirius seemed to contemplate the idea, and then continued walking on ahead at a brisker pace, not looking to see whether Remus was following. Not sensing an imminent attack, Remus sped up to keep pace with the centaur again.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at an old cabin nestled into the mountain side. Remus took a moment to catch his breath and appreciate the landscape once he reached the top of a steep incline. The ground was dappled with light as the sun shone through the lush greenery overhead. Apart from the cabin, there was no other indication of human habitation. Trees extended beyond the horizon. The only sounds were the periodic whistles from birds that had also made the area their home.

Remus could see that Sirius was gritting his teeth, clearly in pain and limping, but he pushed forwards. Sirius’ gaze was fixed on the small house as he moved towards it. Whilst the place looked abandoned, Remus maintained some distance in case there were any surprises.

Sirius tentatively pushed open the door upon realising it was unlocked. Remus watched as he entered the abode and waited until he was summoned.

Eventually, Sirius called for him. Remus peered into the dark house to find Sirius searching through every cupboard and room.

“How did you know there was an abandoned cabin here?” Remus asked.

“It’s not abandoned,” Sirius retorted. “This is my home.”

Remus stiffened in surprise and chose not to dig himself a deeper hole by trying to salvage the situation with superficial compliments. He bowed his head, cheeks flushed, as he slunk off to the side of the room. Despite his embarrassment, Remus’ eyes began to regard the space with more curiosity.

The room was sparsely furnished. Several cupboards and other storage containers were pushed against the wall along with a table and two chairs. On some of the surfaces lay sinister looking tools and weapons, much like the ones Remus had seen at Moody’s camp. With a shudder, Remus forced his attention elsewhere. There was an unlit hearth at the end of the room with two doors either side of it.

Remus was tired from travelling and crept towards one of the wooden chairs, hoping he was not offending Sirius by taking the initiative. He tried not to audibly sigh as his legs rejoiced when he sat down. He held his breath for a moment, waiting to be reprimanded, but Sirius didn’t seem to notice or simply didn’t care. 

Remus could see how the house was suited to a centaur’s large frame. However, he wondered why Sirius owned a pair of wooden chairs when it was clear that he would have been unable to use them. Remus began to ponder Sirius’ past life, his gaze drifting out the window to watch a pair of birds jumping between the branches of a tree.

“I’m going get us some food,” Sirius eventually interrupted the silence. “Stay here until I return, I won’t be long.”

Sirius had exchanged his bag for a smaller one and left without another word.

* * *

Remus waited until he could no longer deny his inquisitive nature. He slipped from the chair and moved silently across the room. Remus was wary, deciding not to investigate too deeply into Sirius’ personal possessions in case he was discovered. He also did not know if the hunter had left any traps in case of an intruder.

Remus pushed open one of the doors by the hearth, closest to where he had been sitting, and scanned the room from the threshold. Like the rest of the house it lacked any personal warmth. Light shone from a single window onto a mound of blankets and several haphazardly placed pillows. Remus guessed that this was Sirius’ bed. On the other side of the room, against the wall by the door, was an old wardrobe. Remus wondered whether there were clothes inside and what sort of garments Sirius would have worn in the past. Remus knew very little about centaurs or their culture.

Remus did not linger for long before shutting the door again. He then went to the other door beside the hearth and pushed it open. He deliberated for a moment before he stepped into the small corridor that contained three more doors. Remus quickly determined that one door led to a small storage room, another functioned as a backdoor to the property and the final door led to a washroom.

Aware that time was of the essence, Remus did not pry any further into the storage room. Instead, he looked into the washroom. Unlike the rest of the house, it was clear that Sirius had expended effort into making it practical and comfortable. It was unexpectedly large and surprisingly warmer than the rest of the house. The wooden floor was exchanged for a smooth pale stone. Several wide steps led into a pool of clear water and a number wax stumps along the edge made it clear that it was usually lit by candlelight. Like the bedroom, there was a single window that allowed for some natural light.

Remus was tempted to take advantage of the clean water, sorely in need for a wash, but he did not want to risk Sirius’ ire. This was clearly Sirius’ private space. He would definitely need to discuss with Sirius the matter of bathing.

Throughout their journey, the only opportunities to wash were a few splashes of water whenever they found a stream. Moody’s camp was not much better as Remus was almost too afraid to shed his clothes for fear that someone would recognise the meaning of his scars and react despite Moody’s assurances. Sirius seemed to have a similar concern as he would clean himself with the same level of discretion as Remus. Even though the pair would only travel to the river when there were no other hunters around, the risk of being discovered was still too great.

Feeling disgusted with his own grime ridden body, Remus left the small corridor and returned to his seat at the table as he waited for Sirius’ return. The house was eerily silent, and whilst it wasn’t as fear inducing as the forest it was unsettling.

* * *

Sirius returned with a full bag of food, commenting that he had obtained everything from a farmer in one of the nearby villages. Remus offered to assist with preparing dinner, but Sirius merely shook his head and told him not to interfere.

Sirius disappeared for a short while to remove his armour and mask, changing into the clothes Dumbledore had supplied him with. He appeared oddly subdued when he returned, clearly deep in thought, so Remus chose not to disturb him as he sorted through the new supplies. Remus then quietly watched as Sirius prepared their food with a practiced ease, using the table as a counter as it was the only surface at an appropriate height.

It was only when Remus took the first bite of his dinner that he realised that Sirius was skilled at cooking.

“This is delicious,” Remus said between hungry mouthfuls. “What do you call it?”

“It’s pork in sage sauce,” Sirius said.

“I thought you didn’t really like meat,” Remus said.

“I’ve just never been partial to rabbit,” Sirius responded.

“What about at Moody’s camp?”

“Or bad cooking,” Sirius added without pause. Remus spluttered with sudden laughter. Sirius grinned at Remus’ response, a charming expression that made Remus feel unexpectedly bashful. Sirius looked so different without his frosted glare and usual frown.

“I don’t trust you,” Sirius finally admitted after a while. Remus was disappointed that the pleasant mood had to dissipate so soon. “I don’t trust you enough to let you outside during the full moon. Even if you’re not a threat to the locals, they might see you and then we’re in trouble. I could keep you in the house, but I’d prefer it if you were restrained.”

“That might not be so easy. My size rapidly changes and I can’t control my body whilst transforming. There’s a good chance I could choke on the restraints or seriously injure myself,” Remus said. He could only hope that Sirius wouldn’t shrug and say that it was a risk he was willing to take. Perhaps Sirius would see it as an easy solution to his dilemma of having to guard a werewolf, claiming no responsibility over Remus’ unfortunate death because he was acting on the pretence of safety. Remus did not know why Sirius was protecting him, Dumbledore had remained vague, but he knew it was not out of the kindness of his heart.

“Fine,” Sirius eventually relented, the argument in Remus’ head coming to a halt. “You said that you’re in control, right?” Remus nodded. “I won’t try and chain you down, but I’ll be watching you the entire night. If you even think about trying anything, I’ll kill you before you can make the first move. Do I make myself clear?” Remus nodded again and bowed his head so that he did not have to meet those cold eyes.

Nausea began to set in shortly after dinner accompanied by muscle spasms. It was expected, but unpleasant all the same. Remus still oddly hoped that Sirius didn’t misinterpret his steady deterioration as a reaction to his food.

“I’d like somewhere to wash tomorrow,” Remus said to try and distract himself from thoughts of the full moon.

Sirius glanced up from the dagger he was currently polishing. He had wasted no time after dinner going through his weapon inventory, checking for blemishes and faults. Long fingers expertly moved across the blades as though they never had to fear being cut by an errant move.

“There’s a river nearby. It’s not too far from the outhouse,” Sirius said.

“Where’s the outhouse?” Remus asked. He wasn’t surprised by Sirius’ response. He didn’t think he would receive permission to use his washroom.

“Go out the front door and turn right. If you follow the dirt path you won’t miss it. The river is to the left of it and down the slope,” Sirius explained. Remus nodded and the conversation died.

After a while, Sirius rose and walked into his room. He returned with a blanket and tossed it to Remus.

“I’m going to sleep,” was all Sirius said before he left again and closed the door to his room. Only when Sirius was beside the doorway did Remus realise how tall the ceilings were. He wondered if it was strange for Sirius to suddenly be so much smaller in a place that was once familiar and more accommodating to his old physique.

* * *

Remus’ naked frame trembled as he gritted his teeth against the waves of pain. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms like armour as they wrapped around his scarred body. He felt like he could hold himself together whilst somewhat preserving his modesty against Sirius’ gaze.

The hunter was standing immeasurably still by the front door, as far from Remus as possible, with a silver sword already in hand.

Sirius had returned shortly before dusk after spending the whole day training in the forest. The only question Sirius asked after his arrival was whether Remus had eaten and if he was hungry. Remus had simply shaken his head and returned to his troubling thoughts. When he could feel that time was approaching, he stripped off his clothes and sat waiting for the inevitable. He did not know when Sirius had moved towards the door and unsheathed the blade, but it grated on Remus’ nerves once he noticed.

Remus’ makeshift bed was in the other corner of the room, not wanting to shred it accidentally during his transformation. Remus briefly wondered if he would be able to convince Sirius to get some beds if their cohabitation was to continue indefinitely. The thought made Remus shudder, hoping they would be able to go their separate ways sooner than when such a topic for discussion became necessary.

The cleanliness Remus had attained after a frigid wash in the river was short-lived as he was soon coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The wolfsbane potion was making him drowsy as it churned in his gut.

Remus missed Dumbledore’s company during such times. He hated that there was nothing to distract him and no one to help ease the unpleasantness. It reminded him of Fenrir’s pack, how everyone was too busy with staying alive through the night to worry about anyone else. Sirius had even replaced the mask over his face, preventing Remus from finding any possible personal connection.

A wail of agony was ripped from Remus as his head was thrown back. His limbs unfolded and began to contort as he arched his back.

He could feel his skin splitting, like he was being pulled apart at the seams. His mouth was on fire as it stretched, the gums being pulled and pushed to accommodate a set of sharp canine teeth. The tips of his fingers felt much the same as his jaw, the nails growing and forming claws that raked across his body in an attempt to stop the assault.

He was dimly aware that flesh was giving way to thick fur, but it was the muscles and bones that made the werewolf shriek as they bended and shifted unnaturally. He kicked out viciously as his tail continued to grow, desperately wanting the pain to stop for a moment so he could catch his breath. His lungs were frantically trying to draw in more air.

Remus finally managed to open his eyes, having closed them almost as soon as the transformation began, and found that he was blind. Everything was a blurred mess, his tears only making it worse and yet he knew he was unable to stop them. The high-pitched ringing in his ears was so loud by this point that he could not conceive ever being able to hear anything else again. The same happened every time, but Remus was convinced during each transformation that this time he would be made permanently deaf.

Then, he felt he could breathe again and all was silent. The ringing had stopped as though it was never there and he could see with even sharper clarity than before.

Remus was disorientated, but his mind was fully present as it inhabited the large lupine form. He had never seen a reflection of himself like this, but from living in a pack he knew what Sirius saw. He was a large, bastardised version of a wolf. His limbs were grotesquely long. The front paws were more like clawed hands, complete with clumsy opposable thumbs. It was almost impossible for him to be mistaken for a common animal. Even his torso was abnormal with a vaguely human quality to it. The thick fur that coated his body obscured some differences, but it didn’t hide his true identity.

Once Remus regained his bearings, he turned to the hunter. Sirius was standing as still as before, sword still in hand. Remus could not sense any hostility or danger from him, but he could tell that he was on edge.

Muscles aching, Remus stretched. He did not raise himself onto two legs, but with his limbs pulled straight it was apparent that he was a large creature. Remus instantly sensed that Sirius was very unhappy with his current motion, so he quickly stopped and lowered himself down.

Remus knew it would be unwise to try and communicate with Sirius using human-like gestures. He could easily be misinterpreted. Even a smile could be read as a snarl. Instead, he flattened his ears and pulled his tail between his legs as he slunk off to his bed in the corner. He moved incredibly slowly, his stomach almost brushing the floor.

As soon as he was on his bed he curled up into a tight ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. He watched the hunter for any signs of aggression. He did not trust Sirius enough not to change his mind and consider him too much of a risk.

Sirius remained standing as he had before. Remus couldn’t sense anything that would arouse concern, but the stillness was disconcerting.

It was several hours before Remus finally fell asleep. He fell in and out of consciousness, surveying the room every time he remembered Sirius. At some point in the night, Remus opened his eyes to find that the hunter was sitting on one of the wooden chairs exactly where he had been previously standing. Remus did not know when Sirius had retrieved a chair, but other than that the hunter did not move all night.

Remus eventually woke when his body began to protest at being crammed back into a limited human shell. His bones felt as though they were snapping, the muscles contracting and tearing to recreate his former shape. He cried out, but he was soon panting and gasping for air as he felt his entire body was being crushed. Remus focused on breathing until the entire experience was over. As the last changes occurred, Remus was relieved to find the blackness thickening and he fell unconscious.

Remus awoke several hours later, his head heavy as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. An inviting smell caught Remus’ attention. His hunger, having denied food the previous day due to nausea, was making itself known.

Remus scanned the room, and after seeing no one in sight he stood up and held the blanket around his waist. The delightful aroma was coming from the kitchen table, but Remus was resolute on covering his body first. He looked down to find the long gashes his claws had drawn across his body and sighed. Some of the scratches had begun to bleed again with the recent movement.

Seeing that his legs were fortunately spared, Remus quickly slipped on some trousers. He was torn about whether to wear a shirt or to go bare until he stopped bleeding. He wanted to cover up, ashamed of his injuries, but he was also reluctant to get blood on his clothes. He only had a limited supply of shirts and took care with his possessions. He could not walk around in public with blood smears all over his torso because they refused to wash out.

Glad to delay the decision for a short while, Remus allowed temptation to draw him towards the table. Before him was a large plate of food, filled with bacon, eggs, fresh bread and slices of cheese. It had been there for a while, but it was still warm.

Remus noticed that there was a note, his name neatly written across the front, propped up against a small purse beside the plate. Despite his hunger, Remus tentatively picked up the piece of parchment.

The letter was from Sirius. After reading through it, Remus was surprised and relieved. Different scenarios had flashed through his mind, with the least threatening being that Sirius had forbidden him from eating his breakfast. Instead, the letter merely stated that Sirius would return shortly and that he had left Remus breakfast on the table. He also added that the purse contained dittany and a small pinch of powder in some water ought to assist with Remus’ recovery. For some reason, Sirius had felt a need to scrawl at the bottom that the medicine was safe for werewolves.

Dittany was not the easiest concoction to obtain, so Remus was surprised that Sirius was willing to part with it. The powder certainly looked and smelled like the real thing.

Remus could not restrain himself any longer and inhaled the plate of food. Meanwhile, he contemplated whether to take the dittany. He did not want to toss aside the kindness thrown his way, but he was ambivalent. He briefly entertained the idea that it was actually poison.

Remus concluded, after finishing his breakfast, that Sirius had been given numerous chances to kill him already. He followed Sirius’ instruction and drunk the medicine in several gulps. The effect was almost immediate. He felt he could move more easily and any wounds that had been bleeding stopped. Remus rushed to slip on a shirt.

Sirius returned later in the day.

“Thank you,” Remus began.

Before he could continue, wanting to elaborate that he was grateful for the food and the medicine, Sirius held up a hand.

“Don’t mention it,” Sirius said.

Remus did not push the matter and Sirius did not bring it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or a comment if you're enjoying the story as it would really make my day.


	8. Chapter 7

Sirius stayed close to home for two days after Remus’ transformation. The werewolf was recovering quickly, only troubled by the occasional spasm of pain, but his transformation had perturbed Sirius more than he would have liked to admit. He felt strangely obligated to remain near to Remus until he was sure that all was well. It bothered him that the full moon had not simply served to fuel his hatred. 

Nightmares that had begun with gruesome monsters became even more disconcerting when they twisted back into whimpering human forms. On one occasion, a dream violent enough for Sirius to gasp awake and rise out of bed without a moment’s notice, the creature that had been stalking him shrieked in agony as it transformed back into James’ broken form.

On the third day after the full moon, instead of going hunting like he had planned, Sirius decided to try and seek out James. He did not know how his dearest friend would handle the news of his situation and whether he would try and convince him that killing Remus was still the better option. Sirius was also deeply embarrassed, having spectacularly lost after failing to heed James’ warnings and wearing the consequences of his actions like a hangman’s noose. However, the dream refused to leave Sirius’ thoughts and he knew he needed James regardless of his response. He would find a way to convince James of what had to be done if he needed to.

* * *

It was Sirius’ luck that James was away. As he was in full armour, complete with mask, no one even suspected that he was the well-known centaur.

Mrs. Bagshot, James’ neighbour, regarded Sirius warily when he asked for James’ whereabouts.

“Why do you need to know?” the middle-aged women asked. She brushed her grizzled mane of hair out of her face as she glared at Sirius. 

Despite the tension, Sirius did not want to reveal his identity quite so soon. He wanted to ensure that he was the one to explain his situation to James without the complication of any possible gossip or rumours beforehand. James had to be first. As far as anyone knew, he was missing or dead.

“I have an important matter to discuss with him,” Sirius said.

“Don’t we all,” Mrs. Bagshot retorted. Sirius tried not to audibly sigh out of exasperation. The ornery woman cared little for common courtesy. She liked James, especially after he had provided her with more space by allowing her to combine her garden with his, and she knew that his profession came with risks. She was already regarded as eccentric by the rest of the community and so if she had no reason to like a person, she had no qualms about showing it.

“It’s about Sirius,” Sirius said.

Mrs. Bagshot’s eyes widened and her hand dove into her apron.

“Give me your hand,” she demanded as she pulled out a small silver coin. Sirius knew what she wanted and so unfastened his gloved hand and allowed the woman to place the metal disk on his palm. When no adverse reaction occurred, Mrs. Bagshot snatched back the coin and dropped it into her pocket.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know. He left several days ago. He will return in about three weeks’ time,” Mrs. Bagshot said.

“Do you know where he is?” Sirius asked, hoping to be told he was in a nearby town or village.

“I only know the bare bones,” Mrs. Bagshot replied. “He said he needed time to think.”

“He hasn’t gone after Fenrir, has he?” Sirius didn’t even try to mask his concern. Mrs. Bagshot’s expression flickered for a moment, too quickly for Sirius to discern what it was.

“He is angry and grieving, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t just learn from his own mistakes,” Mrs. Bagshot said. Sirius kept a blank face, but his jaw clenched tight. He knew Mrs. Bagshot was referring to his own stupidity. However, Sirius was somewhat relieved. James could be recklessly selfless, but he was more level-headed than he had ever been. Sirius did not have to worry about James being foolish and running into immediate danger. If anything, he expected James to be buried in plans, preparing for the next move, and using his anger as fuel.

“I will await his return. Thank you for your assistance,” Sirius said. Mrs. Bagshot simply huffed and shuffled back to her potted plants. James was good at what he did, and Sirius knew it would take him longer to track him down than to just wait for his return.

* * *

Sirius took James’ absence as an opportunity. Now he knew that he wouldn’t be able to see James any sooner, he could concentrate on refining his skills so that he would not end up a burden.

“May I come with you?” Remus hesitantly asked one early morning as Sirius was preparing his gear. Ten days had passed since the full moon and the pair had lived with minimal contact over that time. They spoke when necessary, or if Sirius was casually trying to pry into Remus’ old life, but most conversations led to short monosyllabic answers. 

“Why?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t want to have to completely rely on you. I’m useless here, just sitting and waiting for you to return every evening. It doesn’t help either of us,” Remus quickly replied, as though he had been rehearsing what he wanted to say for some while.

“You can’t fight,” Sirius stated, remembering their encounter with the wolves.

“I said that I don’t, not that I can’t when I really have to. I try and avoid conflict, but that has only gotten me so far and I know my luck will eventually run out. I don’t like sitting here alone every day. It feels like I am just waiting for Fenrir to return.”

Sirius simply stared at Remus from behind his mask. He rarely took it off around Remus because it gave him a subtle edge. Apart from making it more difficult for Remus to read his facial expressions, he knew it irritated as much as it unsettled him. Beneath it all, Sirius had an immature streak.

Sirius supposed that he ought to try and make Remus less useless, especially during dangerous situations where he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He had almost no intention of training Remus to the point of being a formidable opponent, the thought both chilling and humorous, but even some improvement could become useful. Even if Remus had survived so long with abilities that he had yet to see, he would still need practice. He doubted whether Dumbledore had ever tried to train his werewolf ward.

“Fine, choose a weapon,” Sirius answered. Sirius had been planning to try and find something more challenging that day, but he was not opposed to changing his plans. With Remus’ appetite they were perpetually low on meat, so this time Remus could catch his own food and Sirius could learn more about one of Fenrir’s werewolves.

Remus seemed almost startled by the response, most likely expecting to be turned down. Sirius may not have been as openly aggressive anymore, but his warmth towards him was tepid at best. There were too many conflicting emotions for Sirius to find a solid opinion on how to regard Remus.

Remus approached one of the wide counters at the edge of the room, the entire surface covered with all manner of weaponry. As Sirius was used to living alone, he liked the convenience of having all his tools at hand.

“How surprising,” Sirius stated flatly. Remus had picked up an elegant dagger with a wickedly sharp edge. Remus ignored Sirius’ remark and held onto the dagger, his fingers skimming over the surface.

Sirius didn’t take long to finish getting ready. As soon as he was done, he strode out of the cabin. Remus appeared to get the message and followed behind without needing further instruction.

They were only a short distance away from Sirius’ cabin when Remus attempted to break the silence.

“There’s another advantage of taking me with you. With your legs still healing, you have someone to watch your back,” Remus said. Even though Remus’ tone had not been deliberately insulting, Sirius felt a flare of annoyance. He loathed to be reminded of his current situation and shortcomings, but he knew there would be no benefit to taking out his anger on the werewolf. Remus had meant no harm and the whole situation was technically Sirius’ fault.

* * *

They had cornered a large wild boar. The beast was fighting for its life and was determined not to go down easily or alone. Sirius was beginning to tire, having tracked, and chased it with Remus for several miles. He wanted to see Remus finish the task, and with Remus’ small dagger that meant trapping it in an enclosed space. Sirius suspected that he would probably have to intervene soon, but he had to see him try before then.

“Go on,” Sirius said to Remus.

“You want me to kill it?” Remus asked between large gulps of air. Sirius tried not to snort. If he had wanted to kill the animal, it would have been dead already.

“You said you wanted to be less useless, so go and be less useless,” Sirius said as he held out a hand towards the infuriated pig that was threatening to charge.

Remus took a step forward and Sirius repositioned his stance in preparation to take immediate action.

Sirius was surprised to find that Remus had been telling the truth. He wasn’t wholly useless. Remus was fast and tactful in his approach, always finding the best position to strike and retreat. He did not rely on brute strength, but Sirius did not know whether this was because he avoided using it or lacked it.

Remus’ focus was almost exclusively on the boar, but he was always within reach of an escape route. Sirius could see in Remus’ tense posture that he was hating every moment, but he persisted.

Stepping quickly, Remus manoeuvred around the beast whilst avoiding the razor-sharp tusks. The boar bellowed, trying to intimidate them. Remus responded with a growl.

It was over in seconds and Sirius could barely have intervened even if he had wanted to. Remus leapt forwards, his long legs providing an advantage, and thrust the dagger into the boar. The strength and accuracy behind the blow meant that the animal could barely respond before it crashed into the dirt and stilled.

Remus was breathing hard and his limbs were shaking from shock. Sirius knew not to approach, not knowing how much Remus was currently in control.

Sirius began to clap, which also served to startle Remus and bring his attention back to reality. Remus stared at Sirius with wide predatory eyes, golden irises a thin ring around his dilated pupils.

“You did well. I can see now why you were able to survive longer than a day,” Sirius said. Sirius was being truthful to an extent, but he wasn’t yet convinced. Werewolves tended to rely on overwhelming might and ambush tactics. Remus’ abilities were not wholly unusual, but they still raised questions as to how he had managed to live under Fenrir’s tyranny. He did not believe that some adept footwork and a few quick-witted tricks was all it took.

Sirius stepped closer to the boar, still maintaining some distance from Remus, and debated whether Remus should also be the one to carry it back home. Sirius could manage, but his legs were still temperamental, and he did not wish to aggravate them further. He was already beginning to limp from the long pursuit.

“I can carry it back,” Remus said. “I noticed you’re limping. My offer still stands. I can treat that for you.”

“Just pick it up and let’s go,” Sirius grumbled. Even with his back turned, Sirius could feel Remus rolling his eyes.

In the end, they had to take turns carrying the boar back as they were further away from home than expected. When Remus grew tired, unused to overexerting his muscles, Sirius took over until his legs began to ache and they had to switch again. Sirius could have persevered despite the pain, but he did not see a reason to. He prefered maintaining a small supply of strength for any unexpected occurrences. However, he could only hide his discomfort so well. Every time Sirius groaned Remus quietly offered Dumbledore’s ointment. The werewolf had clearly decided that steady persistence was the key. 

* * *

“Fine, give me this stupid medicine or whatever it is,” Sirius growled out as he collapsed on a chair almost as soon as he was through the front door.

Remus returned to the main living space a moment later, leaving the boar in the cold storeroom at the back of the house.

“Let me just grab my supplies,” Remus said as he made his way over to his bag and began to pull out various small bottles. “There’s a method to doing it. I understand if you’d prefer doing it all yourself, but I’d recommend you letting me do it for you the first time.”

Sirius raised a brow but chose not to make a snide remark. He was at the point where he just wanted the infernal aching to cease.

“Fine,” Sirius said.

“Good. You should remove your boots and trousers,” Remus stated.

“What?” Sirius deadpanned.

“It all goes directly onto the skin, so you need to remove the clothing and armour around your legs,” Remus said without turning around. He continued to mix various measurements of ingredients and ignored Sirius’ clear uneasiness.

With a deep breath, Sirius removed his boots and peeled the armour off. Whilst centaurs did not hold the same opinion as humans regarding indecency, Sirius felt strange having his new limbs bare and on display. He was oddly thankful that he had adopted the human habit of wearing undergarments.

Remus approached him with a strained calmness, his posture rigid. Sirius sat on the wooden chair and watched as Remus slowly kneeled beside him and set down an oak box containing his various mixtures. It was oddly intimate, and Sirius was almost inclined to push the werewolf aside and tell him that he no longer required his assistance. Instead, he sat very still.

“It may feel a little strange at first,” Remus said. Sirius was about to enquire further when Remus began to pour a thick oily substance across his legs. Then, Remus began to knead, massaging his legs and forcing a delighted groan from Sirius’ lips.

Remus continued to work, his slim fingers moving deftly over muscle. Sirius’ eyes involuntarily closed as he enjoyed the attention. To provide further comfort, Sirius removed the mask. The cool air on his face beckoned him to sleep, but he fought the urge as there were limits to how far he would pull down his walls around Remus. He still kept one hand close to the hilt of his sword as it sat neatly in its scabbard.

Eventually, the rhythm of Remus’ movements began to slow, and Sirius was able to open his eyes. Sirius caught Remus’ gaze for a moment before he turned away and focused on finishing his task. He curiously noted how Remus’ cheeks were flushed, a sun blushed red creeping up to his ears.

“There’s one more part,” Remus said, oddly quiet and with his voice cracking halfway.

Remus pulled a match from his box of supplies. He lit it with one swift motion and began to approach Sirius’ leg with the flame.

“What are you doing?” Sirius said as he moved his legs away from the fire. 

“I swear you will not be harmed. You’ll feel much better,” Remus said. Sirius was about to protest when Remus continued. “Please, trust me. I have nothing to gain from hurting you.”

Sirius would have argued further that he would rather take his chances with the pain, but something in Remus’ tone made him pause and consider. The werewolf had sounded miserable, as though he was already resigned to being turned away without being given a chance. Despite realising that Remus may have been acting, a clever ploy to gain his trust, Sirius felt a small flicker of sympathy mixing in with an older and more familiar form of reckless spontaneity. Sirius could not read Remus’ motives, even wondering whether the werewolf had fooled the old hermit into providing assistance and shelter, but he knew constant distrust and hostility would not help him to find out. If Sirius wanted answers, he’d have to make some effort in creating an environment where Remus would be more liable to divulge information. There was just a small voice in Sirius’ head that could not help but warn him that Remus was dangerous. For all he knew, Remus wanted him to burn alive.

Fingers curled into a tight fist; Sirius took a deep breath.

“Fine,” Sirius said.

“What?” Remus stuttered.

“I said that it’s fine. You can do the final part. If anything happens, you’re going with me, though,” Sirius stated. Remus just nodded and pulled out another match, as the first one had already burned out.

“Just hold still,” Remus commented before the flame was able to lick his leg.

The flames moved quickly and painlessly, rippling over his skin like oil on water. It was over in mere seconds, and before the first light could extinguish Remus set another wave of flame to dance across his other leg.

The relief was instantaneous, far more profound than Remus’ massage. Remus may have eased the pain in his muscles, but the flames drew the lingering ache from his bones.

“Dumbledore is very skilled to have been able to do what he has done for you. He would not tell me how he did it,” Remus commented as he packed away his equipment. Sirius wasn’t surprised to find that Dumbledore had withheld information from Remus as it was probably for his own safety.

“He used powerful magic to do this. These legs are not an illusion or simple transfiguration. My lower half is fully human,” Sirius told Remus.

“How is that possible and how would you know?” Remus asked, his curiosity surpassing his uneasiness. Sirius wasn’t sure whether he liked or disliked the thought of an inquisitive and intellectual werewolf.

“How much do you know about centaurs?” Sirius asked.

“Only a limited amount,” Remus answered too quickly. Perhaps Remus did not want to be perceived as rude or ignorant. Either way, Sirius carefully stored away his response.

“Like you, whilst I appear human, I am not fully human. My lower half is human, but the upper portion of my body remains unchanged. I am, at least in part, still a centaur. Centaurs have a natural and close affinity with magic. We may not wield magic like a mage, but we’re attuned to it and know how to manipulate it. Not even Dumbledore could hide what he has done to me,” Sirius said.

“I would never have known that. Werewolves are resistant to magic and so I’m limited with what I can do,” Remus admitted, still avoiding Sirius’ gaze.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be talented elsewhere. We all have our strengths,” Sirius said. He did not know what sparked those words, but he was too relaxed to care.

“True,” Remus responded. “You know, Dumbledore told me to only give you that medicine if you accepted my help.”

“For once, I made a good call then,” Sirius murmured. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes periodically closing for a few seconds at a time. The day had worn him out and the sudden pain relief was wonderfully soothing. He just about heard a low chuckle.

“I’m going to rest for a while. Don’t disturb me,” Sirius said as he forced himself to stand despite his body’s reluctance to move. His bed was calling, and he was going to answer. Remus quickly straightened back up with the box tucked neatly under his arm.

“Thank you, Remus,” Sirius said.

He looked at Remus briefly before closing the door to his room and repressed the urge to smile at seeing that the small flush had returned to the werewolf’s cheeks.

* * *

Sirius was agitated as he restlessly paced the length of the empty house. Remus had gone to the river to wash, leaving the small cabin around noon. Around mid-afternoon, Sirius felt something akin to concern. He still did not particularly like Remus, but they had formed a more peaceful coexistence over the five days following their first hunting trip. Remus now occasionally joined Sirius for hunting excursions. Sirius also found it easier to keep his temper and remain patient because Remus was willing to treat his legs with Dumbledore’s pain relief daily. Sirius knew that if he was determined he could do the whole process himself, but those fingers kneading his sore legs were sinfully good.

Sirius decided to forgo the mask, but he still wore most of his armour. He liked to be prepared. As soon as he had reattached his sword he marched out of the cabin and down the mountain path.

He followed the river downstream, guided by the faint impression of recent footprints. His unease was replaced with confusion when the sound of laughter caught his ears.

Out of sight, he peered around a tree and spotted Remus. The werewolf was knee-deep in the river, fully clothed but soaking wet and grinning widely at a girl who stood at the side of the bank. Sirius did not realise that he was capable of such a carefree expression.

The girl was laughing at Remus’ antics, looking down at him from her ledge with her hands on her hips. Her auburn hair was tied back, revealing a long pale neck and lithe figure. Interestingly, her clothes were not too different from Remus’, deciding to forgo a typical dress for something more practical. 

“You should learn to mind your own business, Sunshine,” Sirius said as he stepped out onto the path.

Lily turned towards Sirius with a scowl, ready to rebuke him. However, as soon as her eyes landed on him, her expression froze, eyes comically large.

“Sirius? Is that really you?” Lily asked breathlessly.

Sirius gave a grim smile before nodding and performing a mock bow.

“At your service,” Sirius answered.

“What happened to you? There are rumours that you’re dead!” Lily said, regaining her spirit. She took several steps towards Sirius, within arm’s reach, and regarded him more critically. Sirius watched out of the corner of his eye as Remus carefully made his way to the edge of the river.

“Well, I’m not dead,” Sirius began with. “I did have a bit of an accident, though.”

“What happened?” Lily immediately asked. Usually, such a question would raise Sirius’ hackles. He preferred it when people didn’t pry into his personal affairs, but Lily’s expression was filled with genuine concern and he couldn’t muster up the energy to be annoyed with her. They had been pleasant acquaintances, almost friends, for many years. Lily spent a fair amount of time near Sirius’ cabin, collecting herbs, flowers, and other useful ingredients. Sirius was suddenly struck with a thought and he wondered if she was the same Lily that James was so enamoured with. James could easily have seen her around town or in one of the villages. Then again, James would have to have some seriously peculiar tastes to be so besotted with the fiery witch. There was probably another charming Lily that lived in Hogsmeade, one with a softer temperament.

“I was hunting Fenrir. He found me first. My legs were crushed and I was left for dead, but then Dumbledore found me. This was the only way I could walk again,” Sirius said as he indicated with a sweep of his hand his human appendages.

“Wait, Dumbledore?” Lily said with a frown. Sirius gave her a levelled stare until realisation struck. “You don’t mean the Dumbledore from the legends. He’s real?!”

Sirius nodded. “That soaking wet fellow over there is his apprentice,” Sirius added.

Lily turned to look at Remus in a new light, the werewolf smiling sheepishly.

“I help where I can, but I’m not very talented when it comes to magic,” Remus said.

“Unbelievable. You could have added that in your introduction, Remus. Or the fact you’re with this old and grouchy centaur.” Lily smirked as she glanced at Sirius. 

“I’m not old and I’m not grouchy either,” Sirius argued.

“Oh, wait, you’re right,” Lily said as she leaned forward and squinted at Sirius’ face. “You frown so often I thought they were age lines. My mistake, but you’re still grouchy. Perhaps Remus will finally provide you with some decent company and soften you up,” Lily said.

“I am not grouchy, I just have a low tolerance for incompetence and terminal stupidity,” Sirius responded. “You can also stop laughing right now,” Sirius said as he turned to the werewolf. Unfortunately, with the tone of the conversation, he just made Remus laugh harder. The centaur huffed irritably, debating whether to wipe that smile off his face. Revealing that Remus was a werewolf would certainly change the tone, but then he wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with the possible consequences. He trusted Lily to a certain degree, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

“Why are you with Sirius, Remus?” Lily asked, deciding to leave Sirius to stew in mild annoyance.

“Dumbledore asked me to accompany Sirius,” Remus answered tactfully. The laughter had stopped, and whilst he was still smiling, Remus’ eyes indicated a growing wariness. He was trying to follow Sirius’ lead, revealing only as much information as needed. He may have liked Lily, but he still did not know her.

“I’m his guardian for the foreseeable future,” Sirius said. He did not want to discuss the deal he made to reclaim his legs. It was a tender spot and whilst he was willing to admit he wasn’t enthusiastic about his human frame, he did not want to reveal the depths of his wounded pride and insecurity.

“Dumbledore must have a reason to trust you,” Lily said. Sirius could envision Lily’s mind drawing plans and reaching various possible conclusions. The witch was astute.

“I’m an excellent hunter,” Sirius said without a hint of irony.

“If you say so,” Lily responded, but her grin indicated that she was only teasing.

“By the way, Sunshine, I need a favour,” Sirius began. Lily’s eyebrow rose at the nickname but she did not interrupt. “You mustn’t tell anybody that you’ve seen me. I need time to figure things out,” Sirius said. Lily paused for a moment, contemplating her response, before nodding.

“It’ll be as if I never saw you. I’m good to my word. Don’t expect me not to come around, though. Remus and I get along. He ought to have some civilised company every once and a while,” Lily boldly stated. Sirius rolled his eyes. Remus smiled wider in response.

“I am highly civilised. However, I suppose we could tolerate your company on occasion,” Sirius commented. Whilst Sirius would have to be careful, there was no point in isolating himself away from everyone. Working alone caused him to be in his current situation. Lily also had a range of talents that could prove to be very useful.

“Excellent,” Lily said as she clapped her hands, as though she had finalised a deal. 

“How did you happen across Remus?” Sirius asked, wanting to know why Lily had approached a random stranger. Perhaps Remus had been up to something. He knew of several cases where werewolves had a taste for human flesh, the presence of the full moon utterly irrelevant.

“I heard some splashing and found him making a fool of himself in the river. It was just so funny that I couldn’t leave,” Lily said, laughing at the memory. Sirius simply stared at the werewolf, who was currently looking quite embarrassed as he combed his wet mop of hair with his fingers.

“I was trying to see if I could catch some fish for our dinner,” Remus said.

“Just using your bare hands?” Sirius asked.

“There were quite a few of them and the river isn’t too deep. I’ve managed in the past,” Remus replied. Sirius shook his head in amused disbelief.

“You should be a little more careful. You’re unarmed and he could have been dangerous,” Sirius said.

Lily glanced between Sirius and Remus, clearly indicating that she thought Remus was as dangerous to her as he had been to the fish. Sirius decided not to try and ruin the illusion of Remus’ innocence, wondering if he survived by being so unassuming.

“I have a number of tricks,” Lily finally answered with.

Sirius was finally joined by Remus, the werewolf having partially dried off in the afternoon sun.

“I ought to be off,” Lily said. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Remus. I’ll see you again soon,” Lily said before picking up her bag.

Remus gave a courteous nod.

“Take care, Sunshine,” Sirius said as he began to walk up the path.

“My name is Lily!” Lily shouted before she disappeared over a ridge.

“Sirius?” Remus asked once they were out of earshot of the witch. Sirius turned his head just enough to the side to show he was listening. “Thank you.”

Sirius wondered whether Remus was grateful for having kept his identity a secret.

“For coming to look for me,” Remus finished with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a comment or a kudos. I'd love to know your opinions.


	9. Chapter 8

Sirius paused as he came to stand by the side of the road. Remus followed, unsure as to why they had stopped. They were encircled by the dark forest, its leaves overhanging the manmade track and casting them into a peculiar half-light that made it difficult to tell the time of day. Their only other company was an eastern continental carriage that was steadily heading in their direction. Its two bedraggled horses were pulling one foot in front of the other in perfect rhythm.

The carriage itself was unassuming, worn with a faded grandeur. Most of the carriage was black, but the ivory lower half was stained with a decaying yellow, like old bones. The driver was hunched over, his long coat and wide brim hat obscuring most of his features. His eyes glinted in the low light, but then Remus noticed that the strange man was wearing dark spectacles. Remus wondered what such a sight was doing so close to the villages and not on one of the main roads. He supposed that one of the aristocrats had taken a fancy to something in the area. Although uncommon, it wasn’t that unusual.

Remus was absorbing the details of the carriage, having rarely seen such a thing with its intricate engravings and lit ornate lamps, when Sirius moved to stand in the middle of the road. The hunter seemed at ease, if not mildly annoyed as per his usual demeanour, but Remus knew that there was something curious about his behaviour.

The carriage slowed, the driver unfazed by the interruption to his journey.

“We are on a hunt, but we seem to have become a little turned around,” Sirius said in an accent that was almost exclusively performed by the aristocracy. “However, seeing you here, I am wondering whether you are more lost than us.” Sirius finished with a forced but cordial laugh, grinning pleasantly as his mask hid his surely calculating gaze. Remus wondered whether the perfect enunciation was how other centaurs typically spoke. It wasn’t too different from his usual accent, but there was a preciseness to every word. Remus also admired how Sirius could so simply slip into a new role without appearing like a parody. Even the mask wasn’t too bizarre for his performance, the upper classes frequently indulging in different fashion trends and eccentric styles.

“You’re a way off from any decent form of civilisation,” the driver answered smoothly as he tilted his hat in greeting. The movement allowed Remus to see gaunt cheeks that were framed by dark and lank hair.

“It is the price to pay for good game,” Sirius answered as he stepped closer to the cart.

“I agree. I do a little hunting myself when I get the chance,” the driver commented.

“I am sure you do. What takes your fancy? Do you like children, women, or perhaps strong young men?” Sirius asked in the same pleasant tone as before, however, there was now a familiar and nasty edge to it.

Remus gasped and fumbled for words to express his shock. He was seriously beginning to wonder if the centaur was only ever pleasant if it suited his needs. He also wondered whether Sirius was genuinely unhinged and a chill ran down his spine at the thought of having to remain in his company. His life was precariously balanced on the whims of a madman. He felt uneasy around the odd traveller, but there was nothing to indicate that he was anything but human. Remus was struck with the sickening thought that Sirius practiced his skills through hunting anything that came across his path in the lonely forest. Sirius seemed willing to pay any price to obtain his revenge.

Remus debated whether to step forward, desperate to be away from the centaur, but he wanted to prevent what he was afraid was about to transpire. He did not know whether it would have been better for him to have remained in the cabin and completely ignorant to Sirius’ habits. He had insisted on joining the hunter, to learn from him and to prepare himself for what may come. He loathed staying alone for hours in the cabin with little to do. He wondered if Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he placed him in Sirius’ care. 

Even though most of the driver’s face was hidden, a sneer was visible. Sirius reached for the hilt of his blade and began to pull it from its sheath. Remus was dithering over how to calm the situation down, perhaps make the centaur he relied upon see reason, when the driver dove from his seat and straight towards Sirius.

The glasses fell from the driver’s face and Remus saw sinister red bloodshot eyes, the pupils quickly dilating. A row of fine sharp teeth descended from the man’s gums as he gnashed at Sirius. Sirius had expected the response and quickly moved out of immediate danger, slamming his elbow into the driver’s chest and kicking him into the side of the carriage. Remus darted back and pulled out his dagger.

“What is he?!” Remus asked, completely bewildered by the turn in events.

“Strigoi!” Sirius shouted back as a swipe from his sword narrowly missed the creature.

“Well done, little hunter. At least you’ll know what caused your end,” the strigoi said, his voice distorted due to the teeth.

“Shut up,” Sirius growled as he brought down his sword on the driver’s arm. The strigoi cried out in pain and hissed as he spun away from Sirius. He glanced down at his wound, muddy blood flowing over skeletal fingers that clasped the torn skin.

Remus crouched lower, ready to act if need be, but he felt useless and unsure of what to do. He had never had to face such a creature before, the rest of Fenrir’s pack allowing him to slink to the back whilst they enthusiastically conquered any threat. He only fought when there really was no other choice because it was his final defence, and that thought alone was terrifying.

The strigoi seemed to sense Remus’ fear because its eyes were suddenly pinned on him and the razor grin widened. Eluding Sirius’ grasp, the driver sprang towards Remus and was before him before the werewolf could jump away.

“Don’t let it bite you,” Sirius called out. Remus could not see where Sirius was because he was too busy concentrating on avoiding the strigoi’s vicious nails.

Remus could now identify the underlying scent of decay and decomposition, unmistakable beneath the smell of sandalwood. He should have known before the attack, but the creature must have been able to shield most of his identifying features to pass as human. Sirius was just too skilled to fool.

Relying on his lycanthropy and years of intermittent practice, Remus danced around the strigoi’s grasp. It was then that Remus remembered that he could attack as well as defend as the dagger was still securely in his grip. He moved with some finesse, his internal panic pushing his instincts into overdrive and making the entire experience fall into that of a surreal dream.

As Remus managed to land a particularly good blow against the strigoi’s torso, he glanced at Sirius. The hunter remained close by but seemed disinclined to interfere and made no move to intervene. Another close encounter with the strigoi’s claws refocused Remus’ attention back on the fight.

“You’re a werewolf!” the strigoi declared incredulously, a look of horror dawning on its face. Remus was only then aware that he had begun snarling. In that strange moment, where one monster realised it was facing another, Sirius’ sword sailed straight through the strigoi’s neck. The creature gurgled, struggling with its last moment, before its head fell from its perch and the rest of its body slumped to the floor.

Remus whirled around to face Sirius, excitement and fear still coursing through his veins.

“Why didn’t you help me?!” he yelled. “Is this your warped concept of a test?”

“Actually, unless you needed my assistance it was better for me to stay back. You rely on your ability to manoeuvre quickly, and I didn’t want to risk getting in your way,” Sirius stated calmly. Remus’ temper began to ebb at hearing the hunter’s response as well as seeing the lack of hostility towards him.

“I could have died,” Remus said.

“There’s a risk with everything, but I was by your side and I said I would keep you safe,” Sirius said as though that answered all of Remus’ concerns. Remus felt a spark of irritation, but with wet blood still dripping from Sirius’ sword he did not want to push his luck. He was still unsure about Sirius’ level of sanity.

“How did you know he wasn’t human?” Remus asked as he looked towards the decapitated figure. He had to look away almost instantly as his stomach churned unpleasantly.

“If it feels suspicious, then it probably is. Did you honestly feel he was human?” Sirius asked.

Remus felt there was a weight to Sirius’ words, but he couldn’t quite understand what the hunter was searching for. Remus wished that Sirius would remove his mask so that he could have a better chance at reading him. Then again, he felt more like trapped prey when pinned by those cold eyes. The strange mask sometimes provided a comfortable level of distance.

“I felt uneasy, but nothing more,” Remus answered truthfully.

“Trust that instinct and don’t let it be easily overridden. Most people have something to hide, but sometimes it’s dangerous and you need to know when to be more cautious,” Sirius said as he wiped the blade on the strigoi’s coat.

“I was told that strigoi tend to stay close to their place of death. This one looks like it was travelling. How did you know?” Remus said.

“I’m impressed,” Sirius said, but Remus did not know if the hunter was praising or mocking him. “Stupid strigoi, or those that are particularly vengeful, tend to stay close to where they died. That is true. However, the smarter ones or the ones who want to continue their existence indefinitely travel as it makes them harder to trace and kill. I’ve come across a small handful of such types of creatures.” Remus nodded, storing away that little piece of information.

“I think he fed recently,” Remus said as he finally glanced down and realised he had been spattered by a fair amount of blood. The smell was doing curious things to his stomach, making him simultaneously hungry as well as nauseous.

“Disgusting,” Sirius muttered as he looked down at his own bloodied armour. Their situation was not made better by the thin sheen of sweat they had accumulated from the humid afternoon heat. “I know where we can clean up before heading back.”

* * *

Remus and Sirius walked through a natural archway created from the bodies of two trees leaning towards one another and finally intertwining at a central point above their heads.

Sirius led Remus down a narrow trail until they came across a pool. The water was so clear and still that it could have been mistaken for glass. Remus could see every detail of the stones that lay at the bottom.

The majority of the body of water was surrounded by a pillar of rock, small waterfalls pushing through crevices and revitalising the pool below. Leaves from the surrounding trees overhung the water, like curtains across a stage. The spectator seats were the moss-coloured rocks that sat at the pool’s perimeter, the entire space very much alive with greenery.

The sound of shuffling caught Remus’ attention and he turned to see that Sirius was beginning to strip off his armour. Smooth skin came into view, first an arm and then part of a torso, lean muscles contracting and relaxing with each motion. Remus quickly turned away, having realised he was staring. He did not want to discover how Sirius would react to voyeurism. 

“This place feels strange,” Remus said, wanting to divert his attention.

“That’s because it can only be found by those who know of it and mean no harm. This place is guarded and brimming with a very old form of magic,” Sirius explained.

“Why is it guarded? How do you know about it?” Remus questioned, wondering if Sirius would be willing to maintain a conversation. Remus found that he almost enjoyed talking with the hunter when he was in one of his calmer and more pleasant moods.

“Blood magic is powerful and extremely dangerous,” Sirius began his explanation. “However, its form extends to magic for the sake of blood. Familial love has unbelievable potential, and this place was born out of maternal love. My friend is the daughter of the forest’s guardian and she lives in this pool.” Sirius then, finally stripped to his undergarments, waded into the water until it reached his knees.

Remus again found it difficult to look away. Wide shoulders lead to a narrow waist, every inch carved from years of training. Sirius’ body was littered with scars, but it did not give him the same sense of nausea that his own bodily imperfections brought. These wounds were evidence of strength and bravery. He then wondered if any of those scars were caused by monsters that were like him and had just wanted to exist. There could come a time when Remus’ mark would be left on the hunter’s body too.

“Will you grace us with your presence, Pandora? I assure you that you are safe.” Sirius’ voice was immeasurably soft and it brought Remus out of his darkening thoughts. He felt wary, not liking that there was someone else in the vicinity that he couldn’t sense, but Sirius’ tone calmed his more turbulent emotions.

Without any obvious transformation or show of materialising, standing in the water a short distance away from Sirius was what Remus recognised as a water nymph.

She was pretty, with long pale hair that framed her petite face and a green shift that clung to her wiry body. She had large uncanny eyes, reminding Remus of deep water. He supposed she was female, but perhaps it was merely the form she adopted as nymphs were curious and secretive creatures.

Pandora reached for Sirius’ face and gently caressed his jawline. Her expression was equally gentle, and her brows were drawn together in a display of concern.

“I am well,” Sirius told Pandora, answering some unspoken question. Sirius then turned towards Remus. “Strip down and come over. The water is pleasant.” Remus was startled, not expecting such a command. A prickling heat began to crawl up his neck and despite being fully clothed he already felt exposed.

“Would that be a good idea? I’m covered in blood. I do not want to pollute the water,” Remus said. He also didn’t know whether having a werewolf in such a place, where magic maintained a constant harmony, would be unappreciated. He felt as though his mere touch would taint the pool.

“Nothing can harm Pandora here. Rather, objects and other materials, like blood, that enter her pool become stories for her. Everything holds an impression, a memory of sorts. Pandora always wants the biggest battles and adventures, even if they end in tragedy,” Sirius explained. He then turned to Pandora with a fond smile. “You were never interested in sweet and romantic tales like the other nymphs. I wonder what your mother would say.”

Pandora grinned in response, revealing a row of small and gleaming, pearly white teeth. They may not have been fine razor blades like the strigoi’s, but her expression was disconcerting enough that Remus felt even more reluctant to enter the water.

Remus contemplated how to avoid joining Sirius. Knowing that the nymph would be privy to certain memories, he felt increasingly uncomfortable as dread began to build in the pit of his stomach. He did not want the nymph to reveal the worst parts of his character to Sirius, fearing that it would spur the hunter on to finally slay him. That would give Pandora a bloody story to enjoy. However, not entering the pool would be suspicious.

“Daylight only lasts so many hours,” Sirius said.

Remus finally stripped off his clothes until he was only wearing his underwear. Sirius had given him a rough approximation of armour, just enough leather guards to provide him some protection. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. 

Remus’ arms were wrapped around his torso as he tried to hide all the scars that did not make him a hero. He carefully stepped into the tepid water, proceeding further when there was no immediate hostility. He still found it difficult to believe that Sirius would ask Remus to join him whilst in a position where he was without his armour. Perhaps the forest guardian’s magic had a stronger influence on the centaur.

Remus waded in until he was in arm’s reach of Sirius, the centaur having beckoned him over to his side. Sirius sighed before reaching out and grabbing hold of Remus’ wrist. He pulled him closer, and despite exerting barely any pressure Remus complied. Sirius then pulled Remus’ hand so that it was extended towards Pandora, only letting go when a delicately webbed hand came to hold Remus’ own.

The cold fingers only lingered on his hand briefly, trailing up his arm and following the line of a scar. Her attention was completely focused on her tactile exploration, her gaze never breaking away from where she touched.

“Pandora has never seen a werewolf before,” Sirius said as Remus looked to him for some form of an explanation.

“Would her mother be angry with me being here?” Remus questioned, watching his surroundings.

“Pandora’s mother maintains the balance of the forest and all of its inhabitants, which means that werewolves are included under her domain. Just because I do not like werewolves does not mean everyone is of the same opinion as me. You’ll be fine here so long as you do not mean to harm Pandora,” Sirius told Remus.

“So, to some extent, you trust me?” Remus asked, knowing he was pushing his luck as he smiled timidly at the hunter. Sirius’ brow rose, but he chuckled.

“Trust is not exactly the word I would use,” Sirius answered, but the smile was still there and Remus jokingly rolled his eyes.

Once Pandora had finished examining Remus, providing no indication of what she had uncovered, she returned to Sirius. Remus couldn’t understand their conversation because whilst Sirius spoke, even laughing on occasion, the nymph never made a sound. Pandora simply continued to draw patterns with her fingers across Sirius’ skin.

Remus reluctantly concluded after a while of watching the hunter and nymph enjoying each other’s company that he was experiencing a form of jealousy. Their relationship demonstrated how lonely Remus truly was, and how far away he was from achieving such warmth.

Feeling conflicted towards the hunter, having only earlier suspected Sirius of being a murderous psychopath and being fearful over his own safety, Remus moved away towards the other side of the pool. Sirius was a strange fascination, and it was messing with Remus’ head.

Remus’ hands rubbed away the dirt and blood from his skin, sometimes uncovering varying stages of bruising and shallow cuts. He soon realised that, climbing from the haze of his thoughts, it had grown quiet and Sirius was no longer talking with the nymph. Remus quickly glanced over his shoulder, only to find that Sirius had been watching him with a curious expression he could not identify.

“Is there a problem?” Remus asked with a false nonchalance that broke Sirius’ odd trance.

“No, I was just considering that we should take this opportunity to wash our clothes as well,” Sirius said. Remus wondered then if Sirius had simply been staring in his direction, or if he had been staring at him. If it was the latter, he didn’t hold high hopes of Sirius’ thoughts wandering down pleasant paths.

“Our clothes won’t be dry before nightfall,” Remus answered, struggling to keep his tone level.

“We can build a small fire and stay here tonight. This entire area is protected, so we’ll be safe. We’ll leave in the morning,” Sirius responded. Remus simply nodded and went to retrieve his clothes.

Remus turned away from the hunter as he scrubbed the grime out of his shirt. Wet fingers moved softly across his back in the space between his shoulders, causing him to jump. He was about to turn around when webbed hands began to trail over his shoulders and reach around to his chest. Pandora stood directly behind Remus, but no other part of her body touched him.

“Pretty werewolf,” she said. Her honeyed voice was clear in his mind despite her not having made a sound. Remus shuddered at the sensation, but she ignored his reaction. “Sirius told you one thing wrong about me. I do like some romance, but only if it is worthwhile. Tell me a good story, pretty werewolf.”

The nymph’s hands slid down his torso. Remus audibly gasped and jolted at her touch as she reached even lower.

She was then on the other side of the pool, looking towards Sirius. Remus immediately turned and stared at the pair with wide eyes, aware that his skin was now probably a vibrant and unflattering red.

Sirius scowled at Pandora but said nothing as she grinned mischievously. 

* * *

Remus couldn’t sleep that night. He listened to the rhythmic trickle of water accompanied by the gentle crackling of their campfire. The strigoi had continued its hunt by chasing him through his memories, disturbing experiences he tried to keep buried.

It took him a moment to realise that something else wasn’t right. He remained still and listened more carefully. He frowned as he turned to Sirius. The hunter was still asleep, but his breathing had sped up and every few seconds he would flinch. It appeared that the centaur had his own demons.

Remus considered ignoring Sirius, allowing him to fight his own battles as he had done for him. Sirius may have said that he would have prevented Remus from coming to any real harm, but dreams couldn’t kill him. The hunter wouldn’t suffer too greatly from a poor night’s sleep.

Something in Remus’ periphery caught his attention and he turned to see the nymph sitting on a nearby rock, her feet still in the pool. She smirked at him, almost an arrogant expression which made Remus snort.

Pandora beckoned him over, but he did not feel comfortable going towards her alone and in the middle of the night. Perhaps she had seen something about him that she didn’t like. He did not know what she was capable of.

“Why don’t you come here?” Remus whispered.

She immediately shook her head before looking down to her feet and kicking the water.

“You can’t leave the pool?” Remus asked. She nodded in confirmation before continuing to wave him over.

In the end, her perseverance won and Remus reluctantly approached her. He kept as far from the water’s edge as possible, but she kept insisting he come closer until she could touch his arm.

“I won’t hurt you, pretty werewolf,” she said, once again the sound coming from within his head. “You should comfort my friend.”

They both turned to look at the troubled hunter who was still battling his nightmares.

“Why?” Remus heard himself ask.

“Because you want to,” she replied simply.

“I want to live. You may not be aware, but he would rather be rid of me,” Remus said.

“You’re like him, trying to do the best with what you have. Sirius is rough, not heartless. He notices that you are not the same as the others he hunts,” Pandora said. 

“How can you be sure? I survived living in Fenrir’s pack by doing what I had to,” Remus retorted. He did not want to give Pandora enough cause for concern that she would alert Sirius, but she didn’t know him and he did not like to be seen as something he wasn’t.

“You survived by doing what would have been done regardless. Someone else would have taken your place,” she stated. Remus dearly wished to know how much she actually knew.

“Perhaps, in certain cases, but that doesn’t mean what I did was right,” Remus replied. 

“No, but you escaped. Now you can choose what you want to do. You can live,” she said as though it were a simple choice. Remus avoided catching the gaze of her impossibly wide eyes.

“I am still running and hiding from Fenrir,” Remus added.

“Then you will always be running. You have a chance to live now, not later,” Pandora told him. Remus felt a flare of annoyance. 

“It’s easy for you to preach at me,” he began in a cold clipped tone. “If you think living is constantly trying to avoid being killed by another monster or a hunter, then you need to view a few more life stories.” 

“You should be like this with him. He won’t kill you for it,” Pandora said, completely ignoring his irritation. The only change in her expression was a slow blink, the small smile never wavering. “You should comfort him.”

“Why don’t you go,” Remus remarked childishly. Pandora chuckled.

“That is not my role and you know that I cannot leave this pool,” Pandora said.

“Why does it matter to you?” Remus asked with a sigh. He would have moved away, but somewhere during the course of the conversation she had exchanged a light touch to a firm grip on his wrist. Oddly, he was not threatened by the discovery.

“Because, Sirius is my friend, and he has been sad for a very long time,” she responded, all traces of humour gone. 

“What do you mean?” Remus pushed. 

“That, pretty werewolf, is _not_ my story to tell,” and with that she disappeared. Remus could not even feel her presence.

Remus moved away from the pool, but he did not return to where he had been trying to sleep earlier. Instead, he stood awkwardly by the campfire, trying to push Pandora’s words away like an irritating fly. He found that he couldn’t. He felt she had been entirely sincere whilst cleverly able to tug at his secret wants and sense of guilt.

Sirius was still struggling in his sleep, limbs trembling and jerking on occasion. 

Remus crept towards Sirius, looking over his shoulder twice to see whether the nymph was watching him. He was also prepared to spring away if Sirius were to suddenly wake.

“Sirius?” Remus called. “Sirius, you’re having a nightmare.”

Sirius did not wake, which was unusual. Ordinarily, even if Remus made the slightest noise in the middle of the night, Sirius would respond. Sirius had even growled on one occasion when Remus couldn’t settle down in Moody’s camp.

Remus did not particularly want to get any closer, and he certainly did not want to touch Sirius. He did not want to find that Sirius’ reflexes were faster than the time it took for him to be fully conscious. Remus took another tentative step towards him.

With Dumbledore, Remus had an entire supply of medicines for troubled sleep. Concoctions that came to mind were useless here when he did not have the ingredients, time, or skill to make them. Remus thought back even further to the time he was with Fenrir. It had been so much harder then, but he did find solace in some small places. Whilst no one liked to consider Fenrir’s group as anything but evil, there had been a few kind individuals through the years.

Remus crouched down beside Sirius and called his name one final time. There was no response, only another nightmare induced shudder. He lowered himself down so that he was lying beside Sirius, facing his back, and very carefully stroked between his shoulder blades whilst muttering gentle reassurances.

“You are safe. I am here,” Remus said.

“Don’t,” Sirius finally murmured. Remus instantly retracted his hand and froze. “Don’t go.”

Remus realised that Sirius was still deep within his dream, so he resumed his ministrations.

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere,” Remus said, even though he knew Sirius hadn’t been talking to him. He hoped that his words would trickle into Sirius’ dream and soothe him, or at least divert his attention. Remus just hoped Sirius wouldn’t suddenly wake up. 

“Promise?” Sirius muttered, barely audible.

“I promise,” Remus said.

After a short while, Sirius fell into a more peaceful slumber. His body relaxed and his breathing slowed. Remus was almost entirely asleep by this point, only having enough energy to roll over so that their backs were to each other.

Remus awoke the next morning to find that Sirius was no longer beside him. The hunter had obviously had another bath, his damp hair framing his face, and he had put on his armour.

Remus blinked to remove the haze from his eyes. He thought back to everything that had transpired last night, although most of it felt like a weird dream. He knew it had all happened by where he was currently lying, now almost entirely over where Sirius had been previously sleeping.

Sirius continued to clean his sword by the water’s edge, allowing Pandora a better view as she marvelled the weapon. Remus wondered if Sirius had bathed to remove Remus’ touch.

“We ought to leave soon,” Sirius called across the clearing to Remus.

Remus blinked owlishly at Sirius before nodding and moving to stand up. As he caught Sirius’ gaze, he was gifted with a tiny smile. Pandora stood out of Sirius’ eye line, beaming. Remus felt less convinced that he had made a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, Pandora is Pandora Lovegood, also known as Luna Lovegood's mother. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please, if you have a moment, leave a comment or a kudos. It'd make my day.


	10. Chapter 9

“There are so many people,” Remus said, holding his basket close.

“Don’t you dare get lost. Stay focused,” Sirius said.

The centaur and werewolf were in Hogsmeade, shopping for fruit and vegetables to add to their forest diet. Sirius was perusing a crate of cabbages. For no obvious reason, he had decided to forgo wearing the mask. Another passer-by jostled Remus, he gave an irritated huff and moved closer to Sirius. 

Remus had seldom been surrounded by so many humans, especially in the middle of a bustling market during the early afternoon. He had heard stories of werewolves entering human settlements and being torn apart by mobs after being discovered. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice him as he kept his head down and shoulders hunched, his mane of hair helping to obscure his face. Remus had also managed to conceal most of his scars with long sleeves. In his mission to fade into obscurity, Remus noticed how eyes were naturally drawn towards his guardian.

Remus recognised some of the more lustful stares at Sirius and felt an irrational wave of annoyance. He tried to divert his attention but ended up accidentally catching the gaze of a young shopkeeper’s assistant. The woman seemed startled to catch his attention. Her eyes flicked down and then back to him repeatedly, fingers fiddling with her long braid. Remus grew flustered and decided it was better to return his attention to Sirius and ignore the hunter’s admirers. 

“You do not look thrilled by the cabbages,” Remus commented, hoping to deter Sirius away from the bland balls of flatulence. Remus could appreciate certain fruits and vegetables, but there were some that made him physically shudder.

“That’s because I’m not. I hate cabbage,” Sirius grumbled as he began to compare two. The farmer had overheard and gave an unamused grunt.

“Then why are you buying it?” Remus asked.

“It’s good for you and James likes it. I want to make him some of his favourite cabbage soup for when he returns,” Sirius said.

Remus was waiting patiently beside Sirius as he paid for the produce when he became aware that they were being openly stared at by a wide-eyed man. At least this individual didn’t appear love-struck, although that provided little comfort. The portly man with dull hair looked as though he had seen a ghost, his feet taking one hesitant step at a time towards them. 

Feeling uneasy, Remus subtly nudged Sirius in the ribs with his elbow. He received the expected response as Sirius turned to glare at him.

“Look,” Remus said as he continued to watch the bewildered man, speaking before Sirius could admonish him.

Sirius exhaled sharply in annoyance and looked up. His expression turned to one of surprise, instantly softening.

“Well, hello, Pete. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Sirius greeted.

“Sirius? Is that you? It can’t be. You’re dead!” Peter exclaimed, tears threatening to fall.

“You’re having one hell of a hallucination then. I told you to be careful when mixing ingredients,” Sirius instantly replied with a wicked grin.

“You complete arse,” Peter said as he stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius. Sirius responded to the gesture, although more awkwardly. 

“Is it really you, Sirius? I really thought we had lost you.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he spoke into Sirius’ shoulder.

“I had a very narrow escape,” Sirius stated.

“I’ll bet. What happened to you? You look, you look a little different,” Peter tactfully said. Remus suspected that Peter was quite familiar with Sirius’ temperamental nature.

“That is a tale for when James returns,” Sirius said.

“Oh, I saw him last night. He came back earlier than expected,” Peter said.

“I need to find him,” Sirius stated.

“Yes, you really do. He is probably at the tavern. James hasn’t taken your disappearance well,” Peter told Sirius grimly. Sirius visibly winced, pain etched into his expression.

“Right, I’ll head there first,” Sirius said.

“I’m coming with you. I still can’t believe you’re actually alive,” Peter said.

“Come on,” Sirius said as he gestured for Remus to follow.

“Wait, who is that?” Peter said, finally noticing Remus.

“That’s Remus. He plays a significant part in my story,” Sirius introduced the young werewolf.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Remus,” Peter greeted him with a warm smile. Remus tried to speak, but it was probably more of a mumble as he told Peter that he was pleased to meet one of Sirius’ friends.

“You have me curious, Remus. I have quite a few questions for you,” Peter said to Remus as they strode down the busy streets.

Despite Peter’s podgy frame, he easily kept pace. The only indication of exertion was the thin layer of perspiration on his brow, which he promptly wiped away with a folded handkerchief. Remus found Peter’s attire peculiar. It did not have the same practical artistry as Sirius’ armour or the finery of the upper classes, but his burgundy coat was a sight to behold.

Remus could feel Peter’s watery eyes scrutinising him, but there was no hostile edge to his curious investigation.

“I’m afraid that you will have to wait. I shan’t take away from Sirius’ tale,” Remus said, not knowing how much Sirius wished to reveal.

Peter laughed and clapped Remus on the back, making him jump at the unexpected gesture.

“Are you making cabbage potage?” Peter enquired some minutes later as he spied the recently purchased cabbage peeking through the top of Sirius’ bag.

“Yes, I was going to make it for when James returned. You’re welcome to have some,” Sirius said distractedly. He was also frowning, clearly occupied with his own headspace. Remus preferred it when Sirius removed the mask. He liked watching his emotions flicker across his face.

“Ah, you’re too kind,” Peter said with a conspirator’s grin. He then turned to Remus and quietly said, “I always take the opportunity to get some of Sirius’ and James’ cooking.” Remus smiled politely in response and nodded, unsure how else to respond.

* * *

Remus could tell they had found James by the sudden shift in Sirius’ posture. The centaur straightened, looking both pained and relieved to see his companion. It was like Sirius was faced with an invisible barrier, wanting to go forward but unable to do so.

James was sitting by the bar with a tankard in hand and his back to the entrance. He wore armour that was not entirely dissimilar to Sirius’. His short black hair complimented Sirius’ long dark tresses.

Eventually, Sirius found his resolve and proceeded forward. Remus and Peter seemed to come to the same conclusion and maintained some distance.

“I hope you’re not trying to become the town drunk in my absence,” Sirius said to James’ back.

The other hunter whirled around on his stool. He was so completely surprised that he almost fell off his chair and had to grip the bar behind him with both hands. His glasses were also slanted after the sudden motion. It appeared that James couldn’t decide on what emotion he ought to be feeling, shifting from confusion to shock and then to something more indescribable but clearly elated.

“Sirius, is that really you? Are you actually honestly here?” James finally said, his voice breaking in the middle. Unlike Peter, James did begin to cry as tears fell freely down his cheeks.

“Yeah, it’s really me, Jamie,” Sirius replied in a more subdued tone.

James flung himself at Sirius and hugged him tightly. Remus was concerned that Sirius was at risk of suffocating. Sirius was less hesitant to display affection this time, his breathing stuttering as though he were trying to withhold a sob. It was clear that neither cared who witnessed their reunion. They were just too overjoyed.

“I thought you were dead. You were gone. You didn’t come back, and I heard rumours. I seriously thought you were dead. I couldn’t find you,” James kept saying. He was reluctant to let Sirius go.

“I thought I was dead. I swear I came back as soon as I could. I was just so humiliated and useless. When I did get back you were out of town,” Sirius told James. Remus was surprised to hear that Sirius had been embarrassed. He hadn’t realised, perhaps believing that the hunter was incapable of certain emotions.

“I was going to ask,” James said as he took a single step back and looked up and down Sirius’ frame. “Something does seem a bit different. Did you do something with your hair?”

Sirius gave a weak laugh, swatting playfully at James’ head. The other hunter ducked away from the attack and his grin grew more confident.

“Honestly, I’m just so glad to have you back. It’s hard to be a duo all on your own,” James said.

“It’s good to be back. I have quite a tale to tell you,” Sirius stated.

“I’m sure it is,” James said as he gestured for Sirius to take a seat beside him at the bar.

“I’ve been waiting for this story,” Peter said, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the tavern.

“Oh, hello there, Pete,” James said. “You saw nothing,” he added, most likely indicating his emotional outburst. Peter rolled his eyes as James removed his glasses to clean them with a small cloth. He used the same cloth to quickly wipe away any trace amounts of moisture that were still on his face.

“This is Remus,” Peter then introduced Remus. Remus smiled politely as he greeted James, but he couldn’t help but take a tentative step back. He knew that James was a skilled hunter, with views and a reputation to rival Sirius. The only difference was that James did not have Dumbledore’s wise words to convince him that Remus had worth. He may have seen an unusual side to the pair of hunters, showing more emotion than he thought them capable, but that did not lessen how dangerous they were. They were confident enough to do and show what they pleased because they had little to fear.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” James said.

“Actually,” Sirius began with a carefully neutral expression.

“That was a joke!” James cried, distracted whilst he shook Remus’ hand. He did not notice the tremor.

“Yes, hilarious,” Sirius added, equally deadpan.

Peter took a step closer to Remus, “James once bit Sirius after a night out drinking. We’d been joking about horse meat and James took it to the next level.” Peter’s whisper had been loud enough for both hunters to hear. James looked slightly bashful and Sirius simply looked even less impressed than before.

“Speaking of horses,” James said as he glanced down at Sirius’ lower half. Sirius sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, get on with the story, Black,” Peter pushed.

“Firstly, I am not and have never been a horse. I swear I’ll sit on you,” Sirius said.

“Well, that threat doesn’t hold the same weight anymore,” James said. The tension was palpable as the pun’s pause lingered on. Sirius suddenly moved his arm, barely a fraction of an inch, and James leapt several feet away in anticipation of being struck.

“Come on,” Sirius said with a small smirk, satisfied he had won. “We’ll get a table. This will take a while.”

* * *

Remus walked several paces behind Sirius, Peter keeping him company by remaining at his side and discussing whatever came to mind. They had all decided to return to Sirius’ residence to discuss the more private details as well as to enjoy the rest of the evening together. It was clear that the trio did not want to be separated so soon after their reunion, still bewildered that they were once again in each other’s company.

Sirius barely acknowledged his ward, too involved in his conversation with James. Even if Remus tried to follow their banter, there were too many meaningful gestures and in-jokes for him to understand. The one thing that Remus was certain of was that Sirius had deliberately avoided mentioning Remus’ lycanthropy. It was the one fact he failed to mention, and Remus had to wonder what Sirius’ motives were. He kept trying to reassure himself that if the hunter had wanted him dead, it would have been done by now. However, another nausea-inducing thought warned him that perhaps Dumbledore’s influence meant that he would only be protected whilst certain conditions were met.

“There she is, the most beautiful woman in the world,” James declared suddenly.

Remus looked up, frowning when he realised that he had not noticed another presence, and saw Lily walking down the road towards them. She was wearing an altered version of what was typically masculine clothing, a loose beige shirt, and dark trousers that looked tailored to fit her frame. She held a simple wicker basket in her arms. As she grew closer, Remus could see that it was filled with various containers.

“This is the Lily you’re enamoured with? Why am I not surprised? It’s never simple with you,” Sirius said. Despite the dramatic sigh and note of frustration, Remus could tell that he was amused.

“Good afternoon, Sirius,” Lily greeted as she came to stand a few paces away from their group. Lily then turned to Remus and smiled warmly. “Hello, Remus. I hope he has been treating you well.” Remus flushed red and nodded, glancing at Sirius to find that the centaur was watching him. “Hello,” Lily then said to Peter before looking at James with a small sneer.

“You know Lily?!” James blurted out.

“Apparently, I do. To be honest, I never connected the two,” Sirius said with a shrug.

“How could you not? Where else would there be a Lily of the exact description I’ve mentioned multiple times,” James said, eliciting an unflattering snort from Lily.

“Probably because I tune you out when you go into your Lily-babble,” Sirius simply said.

“What?!” James squawked.

“It’s a popular name and I thought you would be attracted to some normal human woman,” Sirius defended.

“I do not know whether to take that as an insult or compliment,” Lily muttered.

“I seem to only tolerate the company of odd humans, so it’s up to you how you wish to take that,” Sirius told her. 

“Fair enough,” Lily said with a shrug. “I suppose it was too much to expect that the reason James was never with you was because you were tactfully helping me to avoid his company.”

“I don’t play silly love games. There was no particular reason for James’ absence whilst I was around you. You also never stated anything explicit about him, so I really didn’t realise. I had no ulterior motives when it came to our association,” Sirius said, making his position clearly known.

Lily smiled at Sirius, some of the warmth returning to her hardened eyes. 

“I’m not that bad! Why does Sirius warrant your friendship and not me?” James interjected.

“I’m not a pain in the rear,” Sirius immediately answered.

“That was once! Let it go,” James argued. He still seemed quite taken aback that not only was his closest friend alive, but on good terms with his love interest. Remus felt some sympathy for the hunter and his incredibly turbulent day.

“I don’t know how you tolerate him,” Lily grumbled. Sirius looked at his dearest friend, regarding him briefly, before sighing and turning back to Lily.

“For all my teasing, James wouldn’t be my best friend if he wasn’t a somewhat decent person. He’s overly exuberant at times, but I wouldn’t have anyone else for a partner,” Sirius said. He didn’t look at James whilst he spoke.

“Thanks, Siri,” James said, somewhat softer and more subdued than before.

“About what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sirius feigned ignorance. 

“Sure,” James replied with a grin before playfully shoving Sirius with his shoulder. Sirius smirked and aimed a shot at James with his hip, the momentum causing James to stumble several steps to the side.

“I still got it,” Sirius said with a satisfied grin.

“I was hoping that had changed,” James said as he rubbed his side.

“You wish, Potter,” Sirius replied.

“I think you’re scaring, Remus,” Lily suddenly declared. Remus stiffened as he found himself on the receiving end of several pairs of eyes. Remus tried to formulate words, but he was struggling to come up with any suitable response. “It must be a shock to realise that even the great hunter, Black, can have something akin to a sense of humour and a soft spot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked, his voice dithering between humoured and outraged.

“Oh, Remus, you should’ve met Sirius five years ago! Those were the times,” James began. “We were once at this pompous party filled with aristocrats and all that rot. We managed to spill enough oil onto the dance floor without getting caught that by the time we were done everyone was slipping and sliding all over the place. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Everyone tried so hard to keep their composure,” James said, wheezing and shaking with laughter by the end.

“What do you mean five years ago? I’m right here!” Sirius said with a frown, although he couldn’t help his lip twitching upwards at James’ story.

Remus blinked at Sirius, trying to imagine such a time when the hunter was more light-hearted and had a mischievous streak. He wondered if Sirius’ performance at the bar, the easy and charismatic persona in front of the travelling strangers, had once been more of his true character. Remus suddenly felt the vestiges of his good mood dissipating, feeling immeasurably unwelcome in the centaur’s life. Such expressions were not meant for Remus, he would always be the awkward outsider clinging to the fringes.

“What, did I hear something? Sirius, is that you?” James asked as he began to look up for some taller figure, brining Remus out of his thoughts.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Sirius stated flatly.

“Sirius, there you are! I didn’t see you,” James said, holding his chest in mock relief. Remus couldn’t believe that James would make a comment about Sirius’ human physique so casually. He would never have dared such a stunt.

The pair stared at each other for a tense moment, the tension palpable enough for Remus’ fight or flight response to be tempted. All of a sudden, without warning, James sprinted away and Sirius followed in close pursuit.

“It’s just like old times, although that joke may have gone a little too far,” Peter said.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Lily said as she reached out a hand. “I’m Lily.”

“Hello, Lily. I don’t know if you’ve heard about me, but my name is Peter. I take it you’ve met Remus,” Peter said. Lily nodded as she firmly shook his hand.

“I know that you do not appreciate James’ presence, but we would greatly appreciate your company at dinner tonight,” Peter said. Remus realised then that Peter was incredibly disarming when he wanted to be. He had no doubt that Lily would be joining them.

“I’m not sure,” Lily said, her words trailing off as she looked towards the direction of the pair of hunters. “I don’t want to impose. You’re also right. I don’t appreciate James’ company.”

“I would also like to get to know you better. As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve heard a lot about you through James. I know he can be, well, James, but Sirius is right, he’s a good person. I’m not saying you have to accept his advances, not in the slightest, but it would be nice to try and gain some comradery between us all. See if we can work something out. Remus and Sirius certainly enjoy your company. Don’t you agree, Remus?” Peter said. Remus nodded, perhaps slightly too enthusiastically because Lily chuckled.

“Would you like me to come to dinner?” Lily asked Remus.

“It would be our pleasure,” Remus said, mimicking Peter’s smoothness. Peter started slightly in response, but he seemed pleased as he affectionately patted Remus on the back.

“Should we follow them?” Lily asked as she stared at Sirius and James. They were a fair distance off, just about recognisable. Sirius had managed to corner James up a tree, beckoning him down with a wave of his hand whilst James adamantly shook his head.

“No, they’ll catch up to us eventually when they’ve sorted themselves out.” No one argued with Peter and so they continued walking to Sirius’ mountainside home.

“Wait a moment. Let me just quickly reorganise my basket. Something is rattling around,” Lily said as she stopped and crouched down to quickly sift through her belongings.

Despite his budding friendship with Lily, he still wondered why Peter had pushed for her to join them for dinner. It didn’t seem to be related to James’ infatuation, although, it might have been a secondary motivating factor. Peter caught Remus’ gaze and smiled knowingly.

“I’m surprised James fell for Lily Evans,” Peter said, barely above a whisper to avoid Lily overhearing. “Oh, yes, I know exactly who she is. This is my first time meeting her, though. She may not look it, but she’s an exceptional witch. I’ve seen her portrait a few times. She could potentially be a very valuable ally.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked.

“I’ve heard the rumours about Fenrir. I also know that something big is brewing out there. Either way, we’ll need all the help we can get because things will only get worse before they can get better. I thought I lost my friend once, I won’t be losing them again,” Peter said, his face set with resolve. 

“James will also owe me,” Peter added as a comedic afterthought. Remus couldn’t repress an unflattering snort.

“Come on then,” Lily said as she straightened back up and marched forward. Peter shrugged, having regained his casual smile, and followed the fiery witch.

Sirius and James eventually re-joined the group, slightly dishevelled and sharing a wicked grin. Remus also noticed that James had a large red welt across his cheek, but it didn’t seem to cause him any real concern.

“You’re like a pair of poorly behaved children,” Peter chastised the hunters.

“Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t do anything. He fell out of a tree,” Sirius said with all his aristocratic charm. James grumbled moodily, but he did not deem it necessary to contribute to the conversation. Remus wondered if he had decided to hold his tongue partially out of self-preservation.

* * *

Laughter dwelled in the steady glow of firelight. They sat on the floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by candles as the sun had long since set. There hadn’t been a large enough table or a sufficient number of chairs, so they had opted for an impromptu picnic on the floor instead. No one seemed to mind, rather, Remus felt somewhat more at ease that he was not confined to following stricter social conventions.

Remus quickly learned that Sirius kept a store of alcohol because mead and ale flowed freely into their tankards over dinner. The smooth buzz warmed their cheeks, which was why they chose to use candles rather than the large fireplace after they had finished cooking. Even with the gentle night breeze drifting through the open window, the heat remained and lulled them into a state of pleasant drowsiness.

It appeared that Sirius’ cooking was greatly anticipated by everyone, and what surprised Remus was that James’ culinary talents were nothing to dismiss either. The hunters had prepared dinner with a practiced ease, barely ever causing the other an inconvenience as they chopped vegetables and prepared the meat.

“This is delicious,” Lily praised around another mouthful of stew. She was finishing her second portion whilst Peter was eagerly devouring his third. Sirius nodded graciously whilst James gave a more flamboyant bow.

“I know that Sirius has always had a multitude of talents, but when did you learn to cook? Before your big expedition, you couldn’t even boil an egg,” Peter asked James.

“Necessity,” James simply stated before taking a large gulp of ale. Questioning eyes prompted him to continue. “Do you honestly think that Sirius would cook for the pair of us for all those years without comment? I had to learn to cook and I had to learn how to cook to his noble tastes.” Sirius huffed at the declaration of snobbery.

“I refuse to die by food poisoning,” Sirius bluntly stated.

“You’ve done well,” Lily diplomatically complimented the pair. “Sirius, I noticed you added some chanterelle mushrooms. I desperately need a few for one of my solutions. Would you mind telling me where you got them?”

Sirius paused only for a moment before actively engaging in the topic with Lily. It was always interesting for Remus to see when Sirius became enthralled with a conversation and presented his more sociable side, even if most of it was a construct. It didn’t take long for Peter to follow suit, adding his apothecary knowledge to their complex discussion on the properties of various fungi. Remus followed until he realised that James was subtly trying to draw his attention.

Remus turned to catch James’ confident gaze and waited for him to speak. Remus squeezed his hands into a tight fist, the discomfort of his nails digging into his palms providing a mild distraction to ease his nerves.

“We never had the opportunity to properly talk,” James said. “As you know, I’ve been a hunter with Sirius for a number of years. I don’t know what experiences you’ve had with our line of work, especially as _Dumbledore’s_ apprentice, but if Sirius is watching out for you, I will too.”

“Thank you,” Remus answered, his voice far meeker than he intended.

“Sirius never told me why he is your guardian, though,” James continued.

“Yes, he did. He said it was out of gratitude for repairing his legs. Dumbledore also told him that I could help with Fenrir,” Remus said, almost entirely reusing Sirius’ words. Even Remus was still curious as to why Sirius had really accepted Dumbledore’s demands when it was clear that the centaur was less than enthusiastic with the idea.

“I know Sirius. He is not that hospitable, and he most certainly doesn’t appreciate being human,” James said. Remus felt his pulse quicken. His eyes flickered to the hunter’s hands, readying for him to attack.

“I do not understand,” Remus feigned ignorance.

“Yes, you do. Sirius fights his prejudices, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a hypocrite. I admit, sometimes my jokes go too far and I hurt him. I wish I could take those ones back. However, I don’t tease Sirius just because I like to push him. I know what he’s like. I know that his current state was because he thought he could take down Fenrir without a human’s help.”

Remus was surprised by the seriousness of James’ tone combined with his unwavering gaze. The candle’s light reflected off James’ glasses, giving his eyes a haunting gleam. Strangely, no one else seemed to notice their tense exchange.

“I force him to address his issues because I fear that if he continues with some of his views it’ll get him hurt or even killed. He used to be better, but recently things have been more complicated. This incident with Fenrir was a close call.”

Remus felt increasingly uncomfortable and tried not to fidget. It was like there were insects scuttling beneath his skin and he wanted to scratch them out. He didn’t know what James was insinuating and every other word felt like a building accusation. James seemed to notice Remus’ unease because he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, jostling his glasses in the process.

“What I’m saying is that I know there is no reason that Sirius would personally protect you unless you’re important in some way,” James stated. “Sirius will barely acknowledge the help of, let alone favours for, any human.”

“I can help with Fenrir,” Remus repeated, glancing towards Sirius in the hopes that the centaur would notice and resolve the situation.

“That’s not – Fine then, how can you help?” James questioned. Remus’ mind spun, trying to find a plausible answer without incriminating himself. With a response on the tip of his tongue, their interrogation was interrupted.

“James, it’s your lucky night. Lily requires an escort home,” Sirius called across the room.

“What?” Lily quickly replied with a slight slur.

“She’ll need some help walking our fair Peter home,” Sirius added. Peter laughed, his entire face a vibrant and alcohol-induced red, but he did not argue.

“I would not be opposed to such a task,” James said in his most gentlemanly manner.

“I would rather not be walked home by you,” Lily informed James.

“I would invite you all to stay the night, but I seriously require more bedding. It would be safer for everyone to have an escort on their way back. I don’t want to find anyone in a ditch tomorrow. I can also vouch for James’ honour. If he behaves in any manner that you deem inappropriate, I’ll personally castrate him,” Sirius said without an ounce of humour. Peter giggled.

“Fine, but you better keep your promise,” Lily acquiesced. “And you,” she turned to James. “You better not try anything.”

“I would never! I only wish for you to genuinely like me. You have nothing to fear from me,” James said with more honesty than he probably intended.

When everyone had departed with a fond farewell, Sirius let out the deep breath he appeared to have been holding.

“Thank you,” Remus said. Sirius continued watching the mountain path from the threshold, but his head titled fractionally to the side to show he was listening. “I didn’t really know what to say to James.” Truthfully, the hunter had only brought up questions he longed to hear the answer to himself.

“I’ll tell James the truth when the time is right. He won’t harm you. I need to find the right opportunity because he can be just as hot-headed and stubborn as me.” Remus was only slightly surprised to find that Sirius had been monitoring their conversation, at least from partly way through.

“Why are you helping me?” Remus pushed the words out before he was aware they were even being spoken. He flinched, wishing he could pull them back inside and not risk ruining Sirius’ mood.

“James wasn’t incorrect. My last attempt to kill Fenrir failed spectacularly. I do learn from some of my mistakes,” Sirius said. Even with that, Remus didn’t feel he was being told the whole truth.

* * *

Air tore in and out of Remus’ lungs, his eyes wide open and yet unseeing as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His heart was hammering as hair clung to his sweat drenched face.

He soon realised that there was a hand gripping his shoulder and he quickly sought out its owner. Whilst still blurry, his vision was quickly clearing. Sirius was crouched in front of him, appearing unexpectedly concerned.

“You’re fine. You’re safe.” He could finally make out what Sirius was saying. “It was just a nightmare.”

Remus could vaguely recall being trapped in a warped memory. Fenrir had been there and every attempt to escape just brought more screams and blood. Remus wasn’t sure what caused the nightmare, perhaps the alcohol or even James’ verbal prods. 

“Look at me,” Sirius said. “You’re fine.”

Remus turned to look back at Sirius and finally noticed that the centaur was looking paler than usual. His skin held a sickly tinge and there was also a thin sheen of sweat across his brow. Barely aware of his actions, and its potential consequences, Remus reached out and placed his splayed hand on Sirius’ sternum.

“Your heart is racing,” Remus commented, although his voice sounded oddly distant.

“Your nightmare woke me out of mine,” Sirius said.

“Are you all right?” Remus asked, slowly retracting his hand. He liked the warmth and the contact, but he did not want to overstay his welcome. Sirius’ hand was still on his shoulder for a point of contact.

“I’m always all right, it was just a dream,” Sirius said almost too quickly. “Think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?”

Remus grimaced. He could barely remember the dream, but troubling thoughts kept flittering across his mind.

“Come on,” Sirius said. He left no room for argument when the hand on Remus’ shoulder shifted to grip the crook of his elbow and pull him to his feet.

Remus allowed himself to be led towards Sirius’ bedroom.

“Lie down. It’s more comfortable,” Sirius said as he pointed to the heap of soft bedding. Remus hovered for a moment, moving once he felt Sirius’ agitation, and then tentatively sat on the bed.

Sirius barely paid Remus any attention as he repositioned himself on his bed and lay on his side, facing away from him. He pointed over his shoulder to the other side of the soft heap. Remus took his cue and carefully crawled to his allotted position.

The sheets smelled of Sirius, which Remus found oddly and inexplicably pleasant. He did not know what to make of it. It was definitely more comfortable than his meagre excuse for a bed in the main living space.

“I used to comfort my brother like this when he had nightmares. He would get them often as a child,” Sirius said after a long silence.

Remus did not know how to respond and he was genuinely surprised that he would ever mention anything as personal as family. By what he had seen, and with Sirius’ character, he had surmised that the topic of family was a sensitive one.

“Thank you,” he settled for. He did not want to overstep his boundaries and he was grateful to Sirius for his interference. There was also a profound relief in not finding himself alone yet again in the strange living space with only his lingering nightmares to keep him company.

Remus lay very still, concentrating on trying to relax. After another long length of time he felt Sirius shifting at the other end of the bed. Eventually, a warm back pressed lightly against his own and then the centaur did not move again. It wasn’t long before Remus entered a deep and dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited at last. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to know your opinions, so please leave a comment or a kudos. It'd really make my day.


End file.
